


Before You Go

by awwcoffeenooooo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Confusion, F/M, Fluffy, I'm so done with tagging, Married FitzSimmons, Romance, cause that's just how they roll, cause the dorks are adorable, ignore me, lots and lots of confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6505960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awwcoffeenooooo/pseuds/awwcoffeenooooo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rapid fire, her mind replayed images from the past few minutes.</p><p>Waking up curled in Fitz's bed. His lips against hers. His worried eyes. A girl calling her 'Mum.' A girl calling Fitz 'Daddy.'</p><p>Shaking, she held up her hand. On her finger was a glistening diamond ring.</p><p>/or/</p><p>She was a sixteen year old girl in a woman's body. And these people were acting like they knew her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Is How It Starts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm back with a new story. Obvious, but hey, if I don't state it, who will?
> 
> This one takes place after "Never Let Go," but I guess you don't have to read it to understand completely. You'll get more of the general plot as the story moves along. :)
> 
> Enjoy! :D

She awoke to the feeling of crisp sheets and softly chirping birds.

It was something picturesque, almost. The way the sunlight slanted in dreamily through the windows, or the tiny pricks of dust in the air. The warm body pressed against hers, arms draped lovingly against her hip bones and the breath ruffling her hair -

Her eyes blew wide open as a cold finger of dread swept through her. This room wasn't her own. And this was most certainly not her bed.

The being pressed against her bare back stirred, pulling her tighter against him. Though she couldn't yet discern who it was spooning her, the breathing was clearly male.

She stifled a groan of despair at his movement. Whoever this guy was, he was a cuddler.

Quickly, Jemma assessed her situation. She didn't seem to be in any danger. The body next to hers seemed more content on snuggling than harming. And he was obviously still asleep. If anything, her chances of running were best.

It took approximately 76 seconds of discomfort for her to snap. And yes, she did count, thank you very much.

Carefully, she began to slide down into the sheets. His grip slackened and for a fleeting second she let a bolt of excitement arc through her. Just a bit more and she was free.

But then his arm tightened and towed her up. She had but a second before his lips descended on hers.

Jemma let out a sharp squeak against his mouth. He jerked back instantly, as if he'd been shocked with a jolt of lightning.

"Jem, you alright?" He asked worriedly. "I didn't hurt you or . . ."

The rest of his sentence fell upon deaf ears. Because Jemma was staring at the face of her competition and rival - Leo Fitz.

His eyes were wide and blue. His usually boyish face was somehow older, stubbled cheeks and curls gone. And he was in her bed, shirtless.

Well, someone's bed.

"What . . ." She let out, breathing strangely erratic.

He reached for her face, as if to gently cup it, but she jerked back. A wave of hurt came over his face.

"Jemma, what's wrong?" Fitz's eyes searched hers. "Is it the babe?"

"What?!" She repeated again, voice raising in pitch. "What's wrong? What's wrong is that we're in a bed together! Me and . . . and you!" Her hands dug into her eyes as she rubbed her face. The lack of support of the sheets caused them to fall, leaving her in nothing but a flimsy top. She squeaked again, pulling it back up. "What did you do to me?!"

His face jolted between shocked and worried. "Wha' . . . What do you mean?"

"We are . . . We are in a bed together!" She all but spat at him. "You're shirtless and I . . . I'm . . ." _Barely clothed_. She reddened, deciding not to finish her thought.

"Jemma, hon, what's wrong?" Fitz asked again, taking her gently by the shoulders. The horrified look in his eyes almost hurt her.

Though she willed it not to, her lower lip began to quiver. Before she knew it, she'd begun sobbing. Fitz softly pulled her into his arms. She was too distraught and utterly confused to resist.

He gently rubbed her back, whispering reassurances in her hair. "It's just hormones, Jem. You're alright, I've gotcha."

A few moments later, she collected herself enough to pull away stiffly from him. "What do you mean by hormones?"

He visibly stiffened, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Jemma, this isn't funny."

She glared at him. "I'm not joking! What do you know about my body that I don't?"

"Jem . . . " he trailed off, a revelation dawning on his face. "What year is it?

"2006. Really, Fitz. For a child prodigy I'd expect-" She stopped. His face had gone deathly pale. "What? What is it?"

"Oh, God," he jerked away from her and the bed, standing. He was in nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Hands running wildly through his hair, he started pacing. "They did it . . . They did it . . ."

"Who did what?" She demanded, tired of the way their conversation had gone this far. "I'm done talking in half sentences, Leopold!"

The door creaked open, and both parties froze in their actions to see a small head poke around the door frame.

It was a little girl with tousled caramel curls. Her eyes were striking blue. A little nightgown hung on her, though she was barefooted.

"Why are you fighting?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes with one hand.

"Lizzie," Fitz began, rushing over to the door to scoop her up. Getting a good look at her, Jemma gauged she couldn't have been more than three years old.

"Who . . . Who is that?" Jemma asked, barely above a whisper. A sink hole was opening in her chest.

"I, ah . . . Let's all go get a cuppa, shall we?" Fitz dodged the question.

"Leo Fitz," Jemma all but slammed her foot down. She was riding on a wave of emotions, none very pleasant.

His mouth opened to reply, but 'Lizzie' jumped in first.

"Daddy, is Mum okay?" Her long eyelashes struggled to blink away the sleep.

Jemma staggered back out of the bed. "I . . . I don't understand." Her voice was coming out in quiet breaths. "You . . . You hate me. And I'm sixteen, in uni . . ."

"Jemma -" Fitz began again, but she was already flying out the door.

The fact that she was only in a thin tank top and rather inappropriately short sleeping shorts didn't stop her from running down the hallway at full blast. And the hallway itself - it was a strange hodgepodge of bricks and concrete that she could hardly believe the warm room she just left was related to any of it. It all twisted together into a labyrinth of passages, and selected them at random.

Though she had never prided herself on athleticism, her muscles grew weary after only a few minutes of sprinting. Before she knew it, she was cramping and gasping for air from both her dash and revelations.

Hearing no one, she slumped down against the brick wall. It was eerily silent aside from her breathing.

Rapid fire, her mind replayed images from the past few minutes.

Waking up curled in Fitz's bed. His lips against hers. His worried eyes. A girl calling her 'Mum.' A girl calling Fitz 'Daddy.'

Shaking, she held up her hand. On her finger was a glistening diamond ring.


	2. And So It Goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm overwhelmed from the response last chapter! I did not expect so many views / reviews / kudos / bookmarks!!! . . . That was awesome, thank you guys all so much :) <3
> 
> I'm also shocked no one caught any hints. Oh well, you'll understand this chapter XD 
> 
> Kinda. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Fitz stared as his wife rushed out and down the hallway. His shouts for her to come back were ill-fated as she bolted.

Lizzie let out a small sniffle, and he looked down to catch her sad eyes.

"Where's she going?" she whispered, small hands fisting in his shirt. "Why were you fighting?"

Fitz just cradled her curly head on his shoulder. "Mum's just confused right now, alright? We're going to be fine, baby girl,"

Lizzie sniffled and buried her cheeks further in the crook of his neck.

The three year old was a prodigy, much like her parents. She understood far more for her size than many of her peers. But nothing scared her more than fights between her small family.

And here, her mother had just forgotten her place in their world. A large piece of the puzzle had just fallen out.

Fitz clutched her closer to his chest as they began their search.

* * *

 

Jemma was panicking.

She had a daughter. She was married. And somehow, she had married her worst enemy.

Oh, and the fact she was at least in her late twenties. Out of everything that should have shocked her, somehow that hit the hardest. At least a decade of her life was gone. She was sixteen in a woman's body.

On top of that, she was scared senseless and running in an unknown building from her enemy husband. Because apparently in this life the cosmos hates her.

She was jogging around another corner when she ran headfirst into a body. The collision sent them to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

Jemma skittered backward as soon as she'd caught her bearings, backing into a wall. The person she had knocked down – a brunette girl – just laughed as she stood up.

The girl brushed off her clothes – a strange tactical looking suit. Her eyes were dancing with amusement as she took in Jemma.

"Trying to escape them already, huh?" she grinned, offering a hand.

Jemma hesitated a split second before taking it. She plastered on a grin.

"You know how it is," she skirted with a small wave of her hand.

The brunette scoffed. "Not yet. But at the rate Lincoln's been pestering for a kid, it probably won't be too much longer,"

Jemma chuckled, trying to play the part as she suspected future-her would. "Sounds like how Leo did,"

Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "You're trying for another?"

Jemma paled, wondering how deep she'd just dug her grave. "Oh, no . . . I just meant with um, Lizzie and all,"

This only served to confused the brunette more. "Wait, how long were you and Fitz together before the Monolith? Because you only ever said like three days . . ." her face suddenly lit up. "Ooh, I'm getting in on a juicy little FitzSimmons secret, aren't I?"

Jemma wanted to crawl in a hole and die. How well did future-her know this girl, anyway? Must be quite a bit to be digging into such a personal topic. And what the heck did she mean by 'monolith?'

She was saved by a scuffle of doors. They both turned to see Fitz dash in with Lizzie on his hip. Her little nose was pink and cheeks tear-tracked.

Jemma sucked in a breath. Fitz carefully set Lizzie down. The brunette cast glances between the two parties.

And then Lizzie was running at her. Jemma didn't have a chance to react before the girl was grabbing at her legs with an iron grip.

She wanted to run. To escape this nightmare she'd been thrown into. But looking down at this girl – her daughter – her legs refused to move. Instead, her fingers found their way into the girl's curls and she knelt. Lizzie captured her in a hug.

"You scared me," she cried. "Me and Daddy couldn't find you,"

Jemma cast her eyes up to Fitz. He was staring down at her with watery eyes. She looked back down, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze.

Her lips pressed a hesitant kiss to her forehead before finding her ear. "You need to go back to your Daddy,"

Lizzie gazed up at her with big blue orbs. Jemma bit her lip and tore her eyes away. Softly she stood, and,  using the element of surprise, sprinted back the way she'd come.

Looking back on her actions, she had absolutely no logical explanation for why she did it. But at the moment it occurred, her emotions took over. This couldn't be -   _wasn't_ \-  really her husband, her daughter, her life. This was some other person's gift.

" _Jemma!"_ Fitz yelled after her.

And suddenly she wasn't in a dark hallway. She was in the sky, on an aircraft overlooking the ocean. Someone was banging on glass, screaming her name. But when she turned around to see who it was, she was suddenly back in the hallway. And the one screaming was Fitz.

He grabbed her and pulled her to his chest. One hand was running through her hair while the other was on the small of her back. His arms were strong around her, and it was only then in the safety of him that she realized she was shaking like a leaf. Her eyes were blown wide and tears carved paths down her face in rivulets.

And then both hands cupped her face, his eyes wide and searching. She couldn't help but let out a small sob, completely overwhelmed. She felt removed from her body,  stunned by the sudden hallucination.

"Skye!" Fitz was on the verge of a yell. "Get Liz back and grab Lincoln. I think she's going into shock,"

His yell startled her back out of her trance. Jemma jerked away again, struggling to run. She barely made it a few feet before his arms grabbed her again around the waist.

"Jemma, you need to listen to me!" he ground out, an edge of panic in his voice as they scuffled. "You're going to hurt yourself or-" he cut himself off.

"Or who?" she bit back harshly, squirming in his grasp to get free. "You? Because the last time I checked, you hated me! And I hate you, so let me go!"

He stiffened, and even in her panic, Jemma felt a prick of regret. In a glance of his face, she saw tears just beginning to leak over his cheeks.

"Jemma, I don't know what happened." he started, still struggling to get her to the ground. "but listen to me. I love you, yeah? It's not going to change. You're not going to hurt me. It's not me I'm worried about,"

She pulled hard to get free. "Then who is it, huh? Our so called daughter over there?"

Fitz gave one last twist of his body and suddenly they were both on the ground. Jemma gave up and let him push her into a sitting position against the wall. Again, his hands cupped her face.

"Jemma," his voice started to break. "you have to calm down. If not for me, then for our child, alright?"

"No," she shook her head, choking down a sob. Dread of his words trickled down her spine. "she's not ours. She can't be. I'm sixteen. I'm going into Uni. We're enemies. This is some weird twisted dream, and . . ."

Fitz let out a choked sound of anguish. "No, Jemma. That's not what I mean,"

"Then what do you mean?" she nearly screamed at him. "Stop playing around!"

"Jemma, you're pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well, I'm off to take my PSATs :( Hoping I score as well as last time, cause otherwise I wasted like four hours of my life in a classroom. 
> 
> That sounded weird if you're not a homeschooler . . . which I am, for those of you wondering XD
> 
> Anyway, maybe leave a review for when I get out of class? :) <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. My Dreams Are Fading Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's early? ;) Yup, I couldn't stay away. And considering I've gotten two more chapters written in three days (WHOO) I figured I'd update early. Also because my social life is severely lacking, but you didn't hear it from me O.o
> 
> As always, enjoy!!! :)

 

"Jemma, you're pregnant,"

She stared at him. He was joking. He had to be joking. There was no possible way there was a fetus inside her.

But his eyes were so honest and she could read him like an open book. She was staring through the windows of his soul and he wasn't kidding. She was carrying his child. Their baby.

"No," she whispered. "No, there's no possible way,"

He gave her a strained grin. "You're a biochemist, Jem. You know how it works,"

She shook her head, tears beginning again as she brought her hands to her flat stomach. "But . . . you, we . . . you hate me,"

Fitz curled her into his shoulder. She allowed him to arrange them both against the wall, facing each other. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"Look," he spoke softly. "I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't wan' to overwhelm you, but I also know how you are, Jems. You wan' answers all at once, so I'm goin' to give them to you."

Jemma nodded softly, using a hand to wipe away her tears. It was so strange to see such an affectionate side of him, caring for her so gently. She kept her hands tucked tightly to her midsection.

"It's 2018. You and I work for SHIELD as heads of the Science Division. Sometimes that means we have to go out into, ah, field work. That's what we were doing yesterday." Fitz halted a moment, watching her reaction. Seeing as she was looking quite proud of her future-self's accomplishments, he continued. "HYDRA - the, um, bad guys - they had invented this . . . memory machine. It was our job to disable it. The machine - it read brain frequencies somehow and it . . . it must have damaged you somehow." his hands stopped gesticulating.

Jemma looked up at him. "You mean I don't remember a decade of my lifetime? Because they took it from me?"

"Yeah, that just about sums it up," Fitz rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head, though he seemed relieved that she wasn't trying to fight him anymore.

  
She nodded. "And the machine?"

  
"It's a . . . bit unavailable at the moment." she leveled a glare at him. "Fine. It was a bit damaged in the escape, so . . ."

"Okay," Jemma nodded, sniffling a bit. "I think I get it. But, there's one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"What about us?" She looked absolutely crest fallen at not being able to remember. It took all of his will power not to grab her and kiss her tears away. "How did we resolve our conflicts? Get into SHIELD? Have Lizzie . . ." she shrugged. "Fall in love?"

Fitz just grinned, glad that he was getting her to calm down. Though her breaths were still shaky, her tears had begun to dry. He could see Lincoln approaching from behind Jemma's back, but he discreetly waved him off.

"That's . . . quite a long story. But I'll cut it down quickly." he squeezed her arm reassuringly. "In high school, we got paired up in Chem lab. They said we had to, 'cause we were the only ones able to keep up with each other. Eventually we got accepted into a summer program, made up somewhere in the middle over the Who," he grinned at the memory.

Jemma scrunched up her nose, thinking.  "You like Doctor Who?"

The simple gesture was something he hadn't seen on her in years, and it made her look so much younger he couldn't help but feel nostalgic. "'Course. Your favorite is Tenth, through I prefer Eleventh."

She gave a small smile, which he silently applauded himself for.

"Anyway, we were best friends from then on. Went to Uni together. People started calling us Fitzsimmons. Eventually we both got into Sci Ops at SHIELD Academy - which was actually your idea. From there we were recruited onto a mobile unit." he winced, scratching behind his ear. The BUS years hadn't exactly been his favorite. Too many close calls. But all the same, they'd found a family.

"Turns out that while we in the unit, HYDRA had been growing inside SHIELD. The whole organization fell apart. Government started hunting down the agents. Coulson - the leader of our unit - founded it again. We're still not exactly legal . . . but, y'know, we help people."

Fitz froze. How did he explain this part of their story? It wasn't exactly the cleanest area.

"Somewhere along there, I had an accident. Brain damage, couldn't talk straight. Somehow you thought it was your fault I wasn't getting better, so you left. Once you came back, we just avoided each other like the plague. I'd . . . I'd told you I loved you before the accident. That you weren't just my best friend, that you were something more." Fitz sighed. "We didn't want to talk about it. We were scared.

"But then . . . _things_ happened. We were fighting a war. Bobbi - one of our friends - got shot. Nearly died. You helped save her, and when you saw how close we all were everyday to death - to never telling me you loved me back . . . you asked to talk." a small grin twisted his lips. Jemma thought it looked bittersweet. "Let's just say talking wasn't the only thing that happened that night,"

Jemma blushed furiously and looked down at her lap.

His face twisted as he tried to pad about what had happened a few days later. "I, um . . . there was this rock we were studying. It was like something out of a science fiction novel. While we were working on it, I asked you on our first date. You agreed and ran off to get ready for dinner. But I . . . I . . . stayed. Keep at it for a bit longer. Then the thing turned to liquid, sucked me up. Left you pregnant with Lizzie for six months while I was transported to another planet." Fitz took her hand, toying with the ring in her finger. "But you got me back in time to be here for Lizzie's birth and all, so that was that. We got married in 2015, a few months after Lizzie was born."

Jemma looked up at him when he stopped, brown eyes meeting blue. She was speechless. After all that they had been through, they were still together. They were still fighting.

Jemma didn't believe in love. It was something people liked to romanticize in books, movies, TV . . . Whatever. To her, love was just a mixture of chemicals in the human body. But hearing all that they had been through, together, she decided that must truly be what everyone gushed about.

She let out a small, weak chuckle. "That's quite long for a short story . . . I'll need to make sure I have time for the full one,"

He winced. "Maybe I won't have to tell it. I mean, you're going to get your memories back soon, yeah?"

Jemma gave what was hopefully a strong smile. "Yeah,"

"But, I mean," Fitz traced his thumb over her knuckles. "until then, do you wanna meet everyone?"

Jemma swallowed around the lump in her throat, rubbing her stomach. "I suppose it would be for the best."

Fitz pulled himself to his feet, offering a hand to her.

"Fitz?" she asked quietly, looking up at his bright eyes.

He laced his fingers through hers as they began walking. "Yeah?"

"I, um . . ." she took a deep breath. "How far along am I? With the baby?"

Fitz was silent for a moment before replying. "I believe we calculated 'bout three months. So you're still not showing."

Jemma nodded, looking down at her bare feet. With a jolt of horror, she realized in just a few short months she wouldn't be able to see them. They would be obstructed by the being growing inside her.

She was pregnant in a woman's body. Sixteen and married. Her husband was her enemy. But he was so . . . different. He really cared for her.

And then there was her daughter out in another room, made from their love and struggles that she couldn't for the life of her remember.

Her breathing became more shaky. "Fitz?" she managed.

He stopped their walking, worriedly taking in her face. "Are you alright?"

"I . . . I don't know . . ." she breathed, barely above a whisper.

Jemma could barely breathe. The world seemed to be in technicolor, hurting her mind to look around. She could feel her pulse racing against her chest. Panic was seeping into her bones. With a jolt, she realized she was having a panic attack.

She felt herself slipping into Fitz's arms before the lights went out. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having too much fun with cliffhangers. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Sue me.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! Looking back at Never Let Go, I feel like it was a complete failure. So I might contradict myself . . . Slightly, but if you catch something, let me know :)
> 
> Would love a review! I've been in a car for four hours straight with three younger siblings all packed like sardines, so feel free to amuse me with a review XD Thanks for reading!!!


	4. We're One, But We're Not The Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, this chap was so hard to write for some reason :P I don't even know why . . . It's mostly filler. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

 

"Any current conditions?"

". . ."

"Fitz," the voice repeated, a hint of warmth and exhaustion present. "Could you please recite any current conditions?"

"Oh, right, um . . . memory loss. I think she's got a bit of a sinus problem right now. And . . ." _Please forgive me._ "she's pregnant,"

There was a collective intake of air from the staff around. But then there was a squeal from Skye, and immediately the congratulations from everyone.

"Knocked her up again, eh Fitz?" Skye clapped him on the back.

Fitz groaned, resting his forehead in the hospital sheets of Jemma's bed. His hand was clasped with hers, despite the fact she was unconscious.

Bobbi just grinned at them and scribbled down another note on her clipboard. "Alright, thank you,"

Lincoln finished his own assessment, looking up with a small smile on his face. "So, I think we've gotten to the base of it,"

Everyone crowded in the med bay looked up at him expectantly.

"She's fine," he clarified at Fitz's worried look. "just had a panic attack. Caused her to black out from stress of her situation. Nothing major, but because of her state of mind you might not want to crowd her for the next few days. Give her a chance to adjust. Make sure this doesn't happen again." he tore off a sheet, which he handed to Fitz. "Especially because she's expecting, that's a lot of stress on her system."

"Got it," Fitz glanced down at the sheet in his hands. "What's this?"

"That," Lincoln flipped through a few leafs of paper on his clip board. "is Jemma's medical record from Sci Ops. It appears she suffered from anxiety back in her younger years, so I thought maybe you'd want a bit of research on that,"

"Anxiety?" Fitz looked up, puzzled. "She never said anything about that,"

"According to her file, it was mostly before she started uni. Nothing major, but I'm thinking this might have been a flare up."

He nodded, scanning the paper once more before folding and stashing it in his pocket. "I'll keep it in mind," he held out his hand. "Thank you, Lincoln,"

The Inhuman grinned. "It's my job,"

Just then, the padding of little feet filled the room as Lizzie ran in. She went straight for Fitz, who scooped her up.

"Daddy, Uncle Hunter showed me how to shoot his gun!" she beamed up at him.

Fitz's face fell. "What?"

"Yeah! It's easy. You just -"

As Lizzie went on in great detail on how to load, aim and fire a side arm, Fitz turned his gaze to the merc leaning in the doorway. Hunter just grinned his signature grin and raised his beer bottle in salute. Apparently it was never too early for a drink.

Bobbi held up her hand as Fitz opened his mouth to let her husband have it. "I'll take this one," she pursed her lips, handing a passing lab tech her clipboard. Hunter turned his eyes from Fitz to his approaching wife, and without a word, slipped quickly back out the door.

"Is Mum okay?" Lizzie had finished her training story and refocused on her still mother.

Fitz looked down at his daughter on his hip. Her eyes were wide and blue, frightened. His heart broke for her. She reminded him of when his mum had to tell him his father was gone. "Daddy has to tell you something, okay, monkey?"

Lizzie nodded seriously, curling her head into the crook of his shoulder. "'Kay,"

Daisy stepped aside to allow them room to pass out into the hallway. Without a word, she took up Fitz's place at Jemma's side.

* * *

 

"So she doesn't 'member me?" Lizzie asked sadly after Fitz finished his explanation.

He gave a small sigh. "No, jus' when she was, ahm, little. She doesn't even remember me, baby,"

Lizzie's eyes welled up. Fitz jumped to pull her into his lap. "Shh, don't cry, Liz. It's gonna be okay,"

"I jus' want Mum," she sobbed into his shirt. Her slight British accent became more pronounced in her sorrow. 

"I know," he stroked her back. "I do too, sweet. But first she has to wake up, okay?"

Lizzie nodded into him, still crying into his shirt.

* * *

 

The world faded into focus slowly. First came the beeping of medical equipment, followed by the cluttered din of voices. Next was the feeling of starched sheets before the bright glare of artificial lighting.

Blinking groggily, Jemma sat up slowly. She was on a medical gurney, hooked to a single heart monitor.

The room was empty with nothing but a few drawers and cabinets. The walk to her right was just a panel of glass, the bottom half frosted with an emblem of a bird of some sort.

On the other side, the brunette girl from earlier paced, poking fun at lab techs passing by.

Jemma was just starting to lift herself out of the bed when the girl turned around.

"Hey! You! Back in the bed!" She cried, a grin on her face as she burst back into the small room.

Jemma jumped, scrambling in her haste to get back in the sheets. The brunette just burst into laughter.

"Man, you are totally mini-Simmons, aren't ya?" She cackled. "M'names Skye," she stuck out a hand.

Jemma hesitated before shaking. "Hello,"

Skye just grinned. "This is so cool!"

Jemma gave a pained smile. "That's one way to put it," she sighed.

Skye deflated. "Sorry, it's just . . . You're kinda you, but you're kinda not?"

Jemma shrugged. "Yeah, that would pretty much cover it."

They lapsed into a bout of silence for a few minutes.

"I, um . . ." Skye tucked a short lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you remember the BUS days?"

Her brow crinkled. "BUS? I worked out of a bus?"

"No, it was actually a-" Skye sighed. "Never mind."

Jemma frowned. "Oh,"

Skye inwardly panicked. "So," she began, changing the topic. "Heard you're gonna pop soon,"

She froze before the memory came crashing back in. Fitz telling her she was pregnant. That she had his child inside her.

"Hopefully not soon?" Jemma offered a flimsy smile.

Skye copied her grin. "Yeah, maybe not soon,"

Jemma ran a hand through her hair. "This is all so strange." She breathed softly. "Yesterday I was putting the finishing touches on my project, and today here I am with a daughter and a husband."

Skye grinned. "And this isn't even the strangest thing that's happened to you two," she chuckled. "Probably not even top three,"

Jemma had a vaguely horrified look on her face. " _Top three_?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm positive FitzSimmons have a running list for top three ;)


	5. First Steps

Skye left her alone with a change of clothes awhile after, showing her a button on the wall that she could push for privacy. Jemma had to just touch it before the glass windows became frosted like the bottom half.

"Well," she hummed softly. "This might not be so bad,"

She tugged out of her top and into a bra before stopping. At the other side of the room there was a wall length mirror.

Jemma hesitated before padding over. Carefully, she let her fingertips run over her stomach.

She was still mostly flat - that much was obvious. A sigh of relief escaped her. She couldn't be more than two or three months along, as Fitz had told her.

Her figure was still sleek, but her curves had begun to fill out more from her sixteen year old self. And, in many different places, her skin was scarred. A chill echoed down her spine about what that might entail about her occupation.

But then her digits danced to her face. She turned one way before twisting the other.

Her cheekbones had become more pronounced. Her eyes . . . even to her they seemed haunted in a way. Like they'd seen too much.

Her hair was short. Almost to the point of annoyance for her, as it brushed against her shoulder blades. But it still looked rather pretty, even she would admit.

Jemma quickly slipped into the rest of her clothes before pressing the button again. Once the frosted glass had reverted to transparent, she gathered up her discarded garments before exiting and following Skye to the kitchen.

* * *

 

"So what do ya like?" Skye asked, carelessly tossing a horde of breakfast food items on the counter.

Jemma looked around, a bit overwhelmed. "Well . . . What do you recommend?"

Skye gave a mock double-take before pulling out her phone. "Could you repeat that? I need it to rub in future-you's face,"

Jemma raised an eyebrow.

"You don't usually take advice from me. Not that I can blame you, but . . ." She picked up a box of Special K. "Here, this your usual thing,"

She gave the brunette a smile. "Thank you,"

"No prob," Skye returned the grin. A thoughtful look came over her. "Hey, you're a tea drinker, right?"

Jemma nodded.

Skye bent over to rummage through another drawer before tossing her a cylinder. Jemma cracked the top off and took a sniff. "It's Bobbi's oolong," Skye explained. . I know you're usually more . . . English, but Fitz hides your food stash pretty well,"

Jemma nose crinkled. "What are we? Squirrels?"

Skye snickered. "Actually, not far off," she counted off on her fingers. "We live underground, hide our food from each other, fight constantly," she pointed at Jemma. "Popping out kids like no one's business,"

Jemma turned red. "Two's hardly-"

Skye waved her off, grabbing for a set of bowls and spoons. "Yeah, yeah. I know. It's just fun to mess with you while I'm kid free,"

Jemma quirked a smile. Skye seemed rather like able, if energetic.

They are their cereal in silence. Skye kept chancing glances at Jemma, but she decided to ignore it. Best to let her.

"You know," Skye broke. "You eat differently than her,"

"So there's two of us now?" Jemma replied, scooping the last bit of her meal into her mouth.

Skye rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Yeesh. I just mean you're more . . ."

Jemma nodded, gesturing for her to continue.

She shook her head. "Never mind,"

Jemma shrugged, changing the topic. "If you don't mind me asking, should I be taking vitamins of some sort? For the, ah . . ." She swallowed. "The baby,"

Skye nodded vigorously around a mouth of cereal. "Mm, yeah! Sorry, almost forgot,"

"Oh, no, it's fine," Jemma smiled, waving her off as she stood. "I can get them just fine on my own, if you'd just point me to where they are,"

"Top cabinet, bottom shelf in the corner." Skye nodded with her chin. "Or at least that's where you kept them with Lizzie,"

Jemma patted her on the shoulder as she passed. "Thank you, Skye."

She rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out  various pregnancy supplements. Reading through the labels, she suddenly realized she had no where to begin.

"Would you happen to know which ones I use?" Jemma offered an apologetic wince.

Skye hopped up, leaning around her to shuffle the bottles around. "Yeah, they should be right . . ." Her hands closed around a seven day pill organizer, passing it off to the scientist. "Here. They're your own specialized mix, so you label them pretty carefully,"

"Oh," Jemma blinked, realizing future-her must still be organized to a T. "Thank you again,"

Skye grinned. "No prob. Just ask if you need anything else."

Jemma gratefully gave her a little squeeze on the shoulder before popping open the "Tuesday" pocket of the pill organizer. She made a mental note to refill the tray while she still had an outline of which supplements to take.

Just as she was swallowing her last swig of water, Fitz came in. His eyes caught on the brunette. "Oh, good, Skye-"

He froze, catching sight of Jemma. She offered a small wave, completely unsure of what to do.

 _Though really_ , she thought. _How do you greet your husband you don't really remember?_

Fitz let out a sigh of relief. He took a few steps toward her before remembering his place. He scratched at his ear unsurely.

"I, ahm . . . Hi, Jem," he started, offering a weak smile.

"Hello," she echoed, deer-in-the-headlights.

She only really excelled at one thing -- preparation. Being confronted with her husband was not in her itinerary. Needless to say, this was not her forte.

Fitz shifted nervously, and it was only then she realized Lizzie was clinging to his back.

"Hi, Lizzie," Jemma offered a small smile. It felt plastic even to her.

Skye's eyes darted between the two. She was really tired of being caught in the crossfire of moments like these. "So . . . I'm just gonna go . . ."

She slipped out the door quickly.

Jemma felt neglected. _Thanks_.

They stood there for what felt like forever, eyes darting up to meet before flickering down to their shuffling feet. Even Lizzie stayed tucked nearly behind Fitz's shoulder, only allowing her crystal blue eyes and a mop of mussed hair to peek out at the woman she called Mum.

And that's what broke Jemma's heart. Her daughter was staring out at her like a stranger, scared to attempt reconciliation. She had failed as a mother to protect her.

She padded tentatively toward the father-daughter pair. 

"Lizzie," she started softly. "Would you mind my holding you?"

Fitz slowly turned, offering Lizzie up to her Mum. She held her arms out.

Gently, Jemma lifted her from his back and pulled her to her chest. The girl clung to her tightly, arms around her neck.

Jemma held her close, feeling her little breaths and tiny heartbeat. She was so innocent, so helpless, and she had terrified her.

She couldn't remember her, and yet she'd hurt her.

This little being, a perfect mix of her and Fitz with her father's true eyes and her mother's caramel locks. Whether she could remember her or not, she was inexplicably her - _their_ \- child.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," she whispered softly into her hair. "I'm so sorry,"

Lizzie whimpered lightly into her shoulder, and it was only then that Jemma realized she was crying. They both were.

She took the two of them gently to the ground, crossing her legs so she could hold her in her arms more freely. Lizzie snuggled into her, still lightly crying.

Jemma kept her eyes scrunched tightly shut, breathing in the scent of Lizzie's hair. She was just a little girl.

When she dared open her eyes, she found Fitz had sat down across from them. His eyes were wet with unshed tears.

_This is all my fault. I tore them apart._

She cried harder.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to the angst. Sorry D: But I promise the next few chapters are fluffy fluff :) 
> 
> I'd love a review! And I'm taking suggestions for what else you'd like to see in theses few precious chapters before the extreme angst and plot twist takes over, so . . .
> 
> Leave your thoughts below! XD


	6. Together

Jemma kept Lizzie tucked close under her chin, running her fingers over her back. Apologies were whispered into her curls, trying to soothe over the edges.

She suddenly felt hands on her arms. Her eyes flew open to find Fitz looking down at them.

He was so open she could read him like a book. His eyes were raw and blue, so full of worry and tears she could see in that instant why she fell in love with him in the first place. Fitz genuinely cared for her like no one else ever had.

"I'm so sorry, Fitz," she whispered, voice thick. "I . . . I mucked up everything,"

"No," he replied, taking her hand in his. Their fingers found their way together as if by muscle memory, curling into each other's palms. "None of this is your fault. Nothing, Jems."

His thumb stroked over her knuckles soothingly, but Jemma was feeling anything but. "But it is, Fitz. I scared her. She's terrified! No child should ever have to . . ."

Fitz kissed her lightly on the forehead. "They shouldn't. But when you decided to keep her all those years ago, you knew she might have t.' You knew that no matter what," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His face was so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks. It was comforting. "You'd be a mum to her. And I know you can't remember, but it still stands. No matter what you do, she'll always think of you as her mother."

The pads of his thumbs brushed her tears from her face. "And no matter what, you'll always be my wife."

It was painfully stereotypical, but Jemma couldn't bring herself to care. She had likely wound up with the sweetest man on earth. She was still so confused about everything. But one thing was clear: the boy she'd come to hate was now a man who loved her.

Even if she didn't love him back.

* * *

 

Fitz pulled them back together and softly suggested some quiet time for all of them. Jemma simply nodded, still too overcome to disagree.

Lizzie proudly picked out the movie - some Disney movie Jemma had never heard of - and popped it in. Fitz returned just as the trailers ended with a tray of drinks.

"Again?" He asked, looking at the screen then at Lizzie.

Lizzie just snuggled further into Jemma's side under the blanket. "Mum doesn't remember it. Everyone has to hear Let It Go at least once,"

Fitz sighed. This was the second time this week.

He handed a mug to Jemma, who thanked him before taking a tentative sip. Her eyebrows raised at the contents.

"How'd you know?"

He smiled sadly. "I've known you for thirteen years, Jem. I sure as hell know how you take your tea." He pulled out a travel mug, which he placed in Lizzie's eager hands. "And for the monkey,"

"Thank you," she chirped, taking a long sip of what smelled like cocoa.

Fitz grinned at her, ruffling her curls. "You're welcome, Liz,"

They settled in, Jemma playing the part of mother as her own had done before her. She curled an arm around Lizzie, keeping her nestled in her side.

This was what Jemma had envisioned the few times she'd ever dared to picture adulthood. Curled together, able to whisk away worries with quality time. It almost felt right.

But then she'd come tumbling back into the nightmare, and she would remember that this wasn't truly hers. Not current-her, anyway. No, it was the future Jemma Fitz's. Simmons didn't belong here.

It gave her an overall dejected feeling. This was hers, in a way, but all at the same time it wasn't. She was caught in the middle of a whirlwind, forced to choose who she was. And frankly, she didn't have a clue.

* * *

 

Fitz kept casting nervous glances in Jemma's direction. She seemed content, a bit joyful that Lizzie had allowed her to cuddle with her. But at the same time, she seemed deep in thought.

Several times over the course of the movie, he had to refrain from massaging her scalp or playing with her hair. Because no matter how similar she seemed, how at home she appeared, this wasn't the Jemma he knew. She was younger, less world weary.

A few minutes from the closing scene, his watch pinged. Jemma's head whipped around at the sound. Sheepishly, he held up his watch hand. Though a look of puzzlement came over her face, she just took it as it was and curled up again with Lizzie.

Fitz sighed, pulling up his shirt sleeve. A message jumped out at him.

_Debriefing in five   ~   C_

A frown quirked his face. Though he had expected it sooner or later, he'd been leading toward later. Jemma needed him, as did Lizzie, and he didn't want to think about how long Coulson would be keeping him.

So despite his put offs, Fitz towed himself to his feet. "I have to go," he explained at their questioning looks. "Coulson's orders,"

Jemma just nodded, puzzled. Lizzie, on the other hand, stood up on the couch so she was almost level with him. "Tell Uncle Coulson hi for me," she told him, wrapping her arms around his chest and giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Fitz chuckled, giving her a squeeze back. "I will. And Jemma," he turned to the biochemist. "I don't want to run out on you, but-"

"Oh, no, no," she waved him off. "It's no problem, really. Lizzie and I can go and . . . have lunch?" she directed the last portion to the little girl. Lizzie nodded enthusiastically. "Have lunch," she grinned with a nod of her head at Fitz.

"Oh," Fitz returned her nod slowly. "Alright, then. I'll be back in a bit,"

Astonished by her turn of character, he left their room and headed for Coulson's office.

  
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

 

"So what do you like to eat?" Jemma asked softly.

The mother-daughter pair followed the hallway to where Jemma remembered the kitchen area being. Lizzie held her hand tightly, as if scared to let go, and swung their arms between them.

"Sandwiches," she shrugged. "you make the best ones,"

"Really?" Jemma crinkled her eyebrows. Her own mother had always been adamant that she learn to make at least one easy meal - or, in her case, sandwiches. But she hadn't expected her culinary skills to have made it this far in life.

"Yeah. Especially the ones with pro . . . prosunno," her face screwed up - adorably, in Jemma's biased opinion - as she tried to pronounce the word.

"Prosciutto?" Jemma offered gently.

Lizzie nodded vigorously. "Yeah, that. Daddy likes it with mosella cheese and pesto,"

"You mean mozzarella?" Jemma asked again, smiling at the girl's vocabulary.

"Mmhm. It's his favorite," she grinned proudly. "Mine too,"

"Well then," Jemma grinned down at her with a spark in her eye. "Let's go make some sandwiches,"

If her real mother couldn't be here to take care of and spend time with her, Jemma decided the opportunity fell to her. Because this girl sure as hell wasn't going to hurt because of her mistakes. **  
**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue fluff! 
> 
> I would love a review if you have a moment :)


	7. Love Is The Movement

Jemma leaned against the counter, a small smile on her face as she watched Lizzie.

The girl was running around the kitchen area, gathering everything the two of them would need to make sandwiches. Her little arms were full of packages of cheese and meat, but she refused to let Jemma help.

"Im'ma big girl," she insisted as Jemma offered her assistance yet again.

"Alright," she grinned, beginning to check drawers for knives and cutting boards.

At last, they had their ingredients and supplies assembled. Lizzie scooted a bar stool up to the counter so she could hop up.

Jemma shuffled through the bread selections, her young charge looking on with interest. "Do you know what bread everybody likes?"

Lizzie pointed out a French loaf. "That one! It's only good with prosunno," she stated, matter-of-factly.

Jemma ruffled her curls with a grin. "Thank you very much, Liz,"

Together, they sliced the bread and filled it with toppings. Lizzie made a point that sandwiches were best wrapped in paper, so Jemma found some parchment and the two twined a bow around each.

Finally, their meal was finished. Lizzie had a smear of aioli across her cheek, which she didn't seem to notice as she clambered down her stool.

"Thank you!" She grinned up at her. "I'm gonna go give Daddy his,"

"Ah ah!" Jemma caught her before she could bolt. Awkwardly, she settled the child on her hip. "I think he's busy with . . ." She struggled for the name of the man Fitz had had to meet.

"Uncle Coulson?" Lizzie asked, still clutching a sandwich to her side.

"Yes," a smile broke out on her face. "Coulson,"

The name felt familiar on her tongue, but she couldn't for the life of her remember anything more. Her smile dimmed a few watts.

"Well, would you like to wait for Fitz to get back or eat now?"

"Let's wait," Lizzie decided. "Daddy always eats with us on sandwich day,"

"Today's sandwich day?" Jemma furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yeah, you said it was 'cause you and Daddy don't work," she slumped dejectedly.

Jemma clamped her mouth shut to prevent further questioning. The little fall of Lizzie's face when she hadn't remembered their day was enough to keep her quiet. Instead, she let out a soft "Oh,"

Any moment of bonding had vanished, and Lizzie loosened her hold on Jemma's neck to be let down. She went to pick up a small doll on the corner of the table and then slumped to the floor, playing with the arms.

Jemma sighed softly, resigning herself to the fact that no matter what she did at this point, Lizzie would likely always feel her real mother's absence.

* * *

  
"Hey, girls," Fitz plastered on what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he entered the kitchen.

Lizzie jumped up from her small collection of toys and ran to hug his leg. "You're back! We made sandwiches."

She proudly nabbed one off the counter and presented it to her father. Fitz smiled softly at the offering. "Thanks, monkey," he leaned over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

Jemma awkwardly hovered, wringing her hands together. Lizzie looked between her two parents before moving a bit closer to Fitz.

He scooped her up, looking over to Jemma. "She wasn't too much, right?"

Jemma shook her head, waving him off. "Oh, no. Not at all. She's a big helper,"

Lizzie burrowed her head into Fitz's shoulder, but Jemma caught a flash of a proud grin.

"You raised her well," she said suddenly before reddening. Her eyes returned to her warring hands.

Fitz gave a small twist of his lips. "You did, too, y'know,"

Jemma shook her head again. "No, that wasn't me. That was her mum," she offered a sad smile.

"Same thing to me," Fitz offered quietly.

"No, it's not," Jemma took a shaky breath, keeping her gaze on her palms. "I took her from you. She . . ." She tapped her forehead. "She's trapped in here,"

Fitz took a step toward her, but Jemma took another back. He stopped, scratching behind his ear.

Jemma could feel her eyes moistening, but she pushed the feeling down. It wouldn't do; she'd had enough of the water works for today. So she changed the subject.

"Well, our sandwiches are ready," she offered, gesturing to the stacked up rolls.

He nodded, allowing Lizzie to drop from his grasp. And then together, they gathered up their meal and a small cooler.

Jemma had no idea where they were going, but she took her bundle and followed. They walked up a stairwell she remembered running down a few hours before, making her blush in remembrance.

A few more hallways, and they were outdoors.

It was late afternoon - not exactly lunchtime, but they'd take it. The sun was bright and warm on their backs, the air fresh. They were in a small field surrounded on every side by trees. Grasses grew tall and waved lightly in the breeze.

Jemma turned around. The door they'd just exited seemed to appear out of nowhere, just a pane sticking up out of thin air.

"Fitz, what's -"

"Cloaking tech," he grinned, squeezing her shoulder. "One of mine, actually. But I can't take all the credit. You helped too,"

"It's magnificent," she breathed with an emerging smile. "How does it bend the light to -"

"Blend with its surroundings?"

"Yes, I mean . . . It's not mirroring the grass, it looks real."

"We used a simulation to synthesize what the land looked like before the base was built," he spread an arm out to point an imaginary line across the expanse of grass. "From about there to right there, it's all the simulation. Really, it's just -"

"- an artificial projection based off real time simulations," a wide, breathless euphoria split her face. "Fitz, that's genius!"

It wasn't until she looked up at him that she realized it. Her cheeks colored with a blush. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Finish my sentence?" He chuckled softly. "It's actually normal for us, believe it or not,"

Jemma just looked down, not trusting herself to meet his eyes. Her trainer toed at the dirt. "Not many people appreciate it, if you get my meaning. Seems like I'm showing them up or something of the sort,"

"I know," he mumbled, hesitantly taking her hand. Jemma felt herself freeze up for a moment before allowing him to lead her. It was hard for him too, she reminded herself. Might as well let him have some sense of normalcy.

Lizzie had already messily spread out a blanket across a less weedy patch of land, flopping down on it. She beamed up at them as they each sat on a corner.

"Are we going to eat now?" She asked.

Fitz pulled her to him so she could sit on his lap. "I think so, Liz,"

Jemma hesitantly unwrapped hers, inwardly smiling at how happy Lizzie and Fitz seemed about theirs. But then the smell of aioli wafted toward her, and she took a small bite.

The corner of her lips twitched up. She hadn't ever made a sandwich like this, but she had to say it was one of the best she'd ever tasted.

All too soon, they were finished. Lizzie ran off to pick wildflowers while she and Fitz stayed on the blanket. He didn't advance or prod her, which she was eternally grateful for. Jemma didn't think she could handle any more confrontation.

So together but apart, the rift between them perhaps shrinking just a bit, they watched their daughter play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my shaky science. I scored well in Biology, but I'm drawing a blank on technical engineering. 
> 
> There's my fluff XD Enjoy it, because the next few chapters are going to be showing some expanding plot points. Prepare for the angst that I'm so fond of :)
> 
> Anyhow, I'd love a review :) Til' next time!


	8. Face All Made Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warnings for depression and self harm

That night ranked number two on her list of embarrassing, awkward moments. And heaven knows Jemma Simmons has too many of those.

Looking back, however, it wasn't entirely her fault. It was mostly Fitz's. It was completely his fault that he was so damn adorable and absentminded when he was tired.

* * *

 

"Fitz," Jemma shuffled awkwardly in the doorway of his - _their_ , she reminded herself - bedroom. He was bustling about, getting his things ready for bed, as Jemma hovered. "Do you have any . . . clothes for me to wear?"

"Hmm?" His head poked out of the closet. "Yeah, top drawer on the right," he pointed out quickly before returning to his task.

She nodded, still hesitant to enter. It wasn't like it was the most intimately domestic thing they'd both done all day. It just didn't feel right to be gathering lady things with a man in the room.

Eventually, she decided to just bite the bullet and go for it. It wasn't as if this wasn't a normal occurrence for future-her. She could deal with it. After all, she was already pregnant. Wasn't like this was the most adult thing that could happen.

Rummaging through the appointed drawer, she found nothing but more of those skimpy tank tops she'd woke up in that morning and an overload of oversized t-shirts. She shuffled through them, pulling out one that seemed well loved. It was a Sci-Ops shirt, which she realized _also_ bore the engineering division's slogan. Figures that all her night clothes would be stolen from Fitz's day ones. It must be a weird nerd kink or something.

After selecting a pair of pajama shorts, she headed into the restroom and changed. A collection of hair ties were set out on the counter, which she took the liberation of attempting to throw her hair into a bun with. Unfortunately, her short locks refused to agree. In the end, she begrudgingly had to settle on her usual pony tail.

A groan escaped her as she saw the toothbrushes. Of course, she couldn't even bloody remember which was hers.

Jemma grit her teeth in annoyance. She could always ask Fitz, but she hated to seem helpless. Hadn't she caused enough of a problem already? Scaring him, Lizzie - heck, the whole secret-agent-spy-thing of a base they lived on.

In the end, she decided skipping brushing for just one night. She could figure it out in the morning.

She shuffled back into their room, finding Fitz gone. After tossing her things in the hamper, she hesitated.

Should she get into bed? Go find Fitz? Or somewhere else to sleep?

In the end, her boldness left her and she decided to just slip into bed.

The sheets were soft and warm, a comfort after the day she'd just had. Her muscles relaxed, lulling her into sleep.

She hadn't expected to drift off so easily, expecting instead to sit awake with only her inner turmoil for company. But she was exhausted, both physically and mentally. So she curled up, tucking tightly around her midsection where her child was.

Logically, her mind fought with her, it was just a bit more than a clump of tissue. But regardless, this was still her baby.

A smile worked its way onto her face as she slept.

* * *

 

Fitz rubbed blearily at his eyes as he tugged himself from Lizzie's room. After the long day they'd all had, it only made sense she'd insist he stay with her until she fell asleep.

By the time he stumbled back into their bedroom, Fitz deemed himself only half conscious. And that was stretching it a bit.

He tumbled into their bed, allowing himself a moment to appreciate how lucky he was to have Jemma as his wife. She was curled up next to him, so peaceful.

Fitz slid under the covers before wrapping his arm around her waist and tugged her close. She was too much asleep to move closer on her own, as she usually did.

His lips found the spot behind her ear she liked, laying a kiss there softly. Her head pressed back further into his chest as she snuggled in deeper to his body.

And he fell asleep.

* * *

 

Jemma's dreams were sporadic that night. She drifted from dreamscape to dreamscape, clutched by some concept at every turn.

The first thing she remembered was tousled, early morning Fitz. His curls were all messy and his eyes bleary, but that didn't seem to bother her as she trailed kisses along his jawline.

Next came flashes of navy gowns and caps, Jemma herself standing on a podium and presenting a speech. There was a sea of faces, but she only remembered one. One with blue eyes.

Next, a chat in a dark bar, the brunette from earlier across from her. She asked about Fitz, if she loved him. She didn't remember her answer.

Then there was banging on glass, fists and yells of a man's name, followed by the sickening roll of her stomach as they plummeted from the sky.

A bedroom - not unlike the one she was in - and pain, white hot pain. Then Fitz. Then the cries of a newborn baby.

_"Is the ride worth it?"_

_"I'll tell you when it's over,"_

Warmth, the feeling of late nights studying. He was pressed against her back, warm and sleepy.

_I think I might love you . . ._

They were sitting on a sofa in a room, her head on his shoulder. She tilted just a bit so his lips slanted against hers, and molded herself to the rhythm of his heartbeat. HIs hands hesitantly wrapped around her waist. She grasped at his shirt collar. He pulled her into his lap.

A month later, a pregnancy test.

Positive. 

* * *

 

When Jemma's eyes opened, it was still deep in the night. But much like the previous morning, she felt warm and safe.

That would be because Fitz had forgotten the boundaries of personal space.

He was draped over her side, her head on his arm and legs intertwined. His other arm tucked around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

As much as she wanted to move to find else where to sleep, her guilty side forced her to stay. She'd caused them enough trouble, hadn't she?

So Fitz spent the night comfortably wrapped around her while Jemma squirmed and tried to feel comfortable. His breath was hot on her neck, something she found both soothing and extremely annoying all at once.

Just when she was wondering how many hours she had left to put up with this, an alarm pierced the air.

Fitz jolted awake, jumping away from her as soon as he realized what he'd been doing.

Jemma just kept her eyes down, playing with the hem of the shirt.

"I, ahm," he clicked the alarm off of his phone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -" he gestured between the two of them.

Jemma shook her head, trying to make out his face in the darkness. "No, no. It's - It's alright. Just a bit out of my zone, if you understand,"

"Yeah, yeah I know," his hand scratched behind his ear. "I just . . . " he sighed remorsefully.

Jemma scooted to the edge of the bed, standing. "It's alright. I'll just take the couch next time."

"No, I just . . . I can take the couch. Won't have you doing it with the baby. It'll hurt your back."

Jemma nodded, padding over to the dresser. From what she remembered of Fitz before all of this, he was legendary for his inability to give in.

A blush colored her cheeks when she looked down. The shirt she'd donned the night before was well down to her knees. Her sleeping shorts didn't reach that far. She looked like she was wearing his shirt.

Which, she was, but in a different context.

Jemma hurriedly looked through the drawers to pull out clothes. Next was the closet, full of shirts and dresses all organized to a T. She picked out a shirt at random and added it to her pile.

Fitz just calmly sat on the bed, offering her information when she got stuck on where to look.

"Shower's through there," he pointed quietly.

Jemma nodded and darted through, ensuring the door was thoroughly locked behind her.

Tears prickled at her eyes as she started the water, but she forced it down. She wasn't some little girl anymore. She had a job to do.

* * *

 

The days after passed quickly. They were filled with Fitz working relentlessly in the lab, trying to find something that could cure what HYDRA's machine had done to Jemma's mind.

For her part, Jemma took the best care she could of Lizzie. The two of them attempted to bond over what they could, though Lizzie was still skittish.

The rest of the team kept their distance. Skye would dart in and play big sister when needed, but otherwise just watched from a distance.

Jemma couldn't remember them, anyhow. It was easier for her to just focus on one person at a time, figure out what made them tick.

But regardless of how busy she kept herself, Jemma could feel the void. Sometimes she had to remind herself that this wasn't all there was to life, that there was more than just the cramped walls of the base.

For a time she considered calling someone she used to know, such as her parents. But when she picked up the phone, she was yet again reminded that they had moved on, too. They remembered her as the wife and mother.

After the phone, she sat for a long while and just stared at a blank wall. Her mind felt empty, her chest hollow. Numb. She couldn't help but wonder if anyone would miss her if she was gone. If they would feel remorseful or relieved. She was just a burden to them anyway, wasn't she? Pregnant and amnesiac.

For once in her life, she just needed to feel something. Something that hurt like her, something to remind her that she was still alive. Still breathing.

It took just a bit of rummaging through the drawers in the bathroom to find a razor. Jemma broke apart the packaging until she was left with just the head, all fresh, sharp metal.

She raised it to her skin, and just before she could cut, the lights went out.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I live up to my warnings? I'm not entirely sure . . . either way, this chapter was originally much longer but much more depressing so I shaved it down a bit. Hopefully it's okay . . .
> 
> I've got big news! You can now get my prints on RedBubble :D They're mostly all FitzSimmons, but I'm working on more. Link's here: http://www.redbubble.com/people/quakingskye?ref=more_work_artist_title_name
> 
> Anyhow, I'm fifteen today. So that's pretty awesome . . . and messed up. But whatever. Maybe drop by a review? It just makes my day every time :)


	9. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the fun begins

Immediately, Jemma dropped the razor. It clattered to the ground as she groped around in the darkness.

Her fingers found the light switch and she tried it a few times to no avail. Opening the bathroom door just bore more darkness. She grit her teeth. Though it had been a few days since waking up for the first time in Fitz's bed, she still didn't trust herself enough to find her way around the base in total darkness.

"Fitz?" She called out tentatively. It was a shot in the dark - no pun intended - but maybe he was close enough to hear. Or perhaps he'd already come looking for her.

Jemma stumbled her way to the door leading out of the bedroom, only stubbing her toe once on the bedpost. Outside, agents were running hurriedly down the emergency-lit hallways. She tried to push down a wave of nausea at the sight of side arms being drawn, loaded and readied. Whatever had happened, it wasn't pretty.

"Simmons!"

Jemma's head jerked the other way, seeing Skye running toward her in tactical gear.

"Skye! Oh, thank goodness. The lights just went out and -"

Skye shoved her back into the room, locking the door behind them. Jemma stumbled back, barely catching herself as Skye flipped on a flashlight.

Before she could open her mouth, Skye threw a black vest at her. Jemma stumbled back the weight of it. "Put this on," she commanded, tapping a button on her gauntlet.

Jemma clamped her mouth shut and did as she was told. The vest was heavy, but she immediately recognized it from her studies - Kevlar. She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"I found her," Skye barked into her wrist. Then, the turned back to Jemma and passed her a gun. She fumbled it, shaking her head violently.

"No, I don't -"

"Take it," Skye pressed. "You might need it,"

She took it, holding it as if it were a lit bomb. "Okay, and the lights -"

"EMP," Skye muttered, tapping a few things on her gauntlets. "HYDRA, judging from the looks of it,"

Jemma swallowed hard. She hadn't yet seen Skye like this before - analytical, ready. It had all been joy and playfulness so far. She braced her mind for a reality check.

"You mean the ones that," she tapped her head.

"Yeah," Skye breathed. "Listen, Fitz and Lizzie are in Coulson's office. If things go south, it's your job to get SHIELD Intel and your family out of here. Got it?"

Jemma nodded, too stunned to do much more. "And you? You just gave me your only gun, you know,"

Skye smirked at her in the dim light of her flash light. "I've got something much better than a gun, Jem,"

Jemma eyed her warily. "What do you mean?"

Skye grabbed her wrist. "You'll know it when you see it. Just keep close, crouch behind me. I'm getting you to Coulson's office."

Without another word, she kicked the door open and led her into the chaos.

* * *

 

There was a tense silence as they moved from corner to nook and back again. Skye wasn't taking any chances with her, meaning every corner had to be scouted before she'd let Jemma around.

In the end, it payed off.

"Duck!" Skye barked, jumping more protectively in front of the scientist. 

Jemma hit the linoleum, careful not to hassle her midsection for fear of the baby.

Skye held out her hand, emitting vibrations so strong they sent the enemy agent careening ten feet back into a brick wall. There was a sickening crack of bone. He didn't move again.

Skye made quick work of the others, only a handful remaining. Jemma watched in awe as Skye repeatedly slammed agents against each other and the walls. Soon, the hallway was silent save for their breathing.

"Well," Jemma murmured after a long pause. "You never told me about this."

"I know it's a lot to take in -" Skye started in on the speech she'd memorized years ago.

Jemma cut her off. "Honestly, Skye . . . I trust you," she offered a shaky smile. "I'm just more curious, if anything. There must be very expensive tech in those gauntlets of yours to emit such a -"

"No," Skye interrupted. "It wasn't the gauntlets." She grabbed Jemma's arm again. "That was me,"

"What?" Jemma rasped out.

"We didn't want to make you panic. One thing at a time, right? Fitz and Co. first, us Inhumans last,"

"Inhumans?"

Skye shoved her into another doorway, looking both ways. She met her eyes seriously.  "Listen, we don't have time. Fitz will tell you what you need to know, alright?"

Jemma nodded, taking a deep breath. "Skye, I can't thank you enough."

Skye pulled her into a quick hug. "You don't need to," she smiled when she pulled back. "Now get in there. They're waiting for you."

Jemma returned her smile before ducking into the office.

* * *

 

"Fitz?" She called out tentatively. "Lizzie?"

There was a slight shuffle behind the desk before Lizzie popped up, the clang of a flashlight hitting the ground as she did so. She grinned and threw herself at Jemma.

"You made it!" She wrapped her arms around her leg.

Fitz popped up next, hushing her. "Quiet, remember Liz?"

"Oh yeah," Lizzie mock whispered back. "Come back here with us," she tugged Jemma back behind the piece of furniture.

She crawled after the girl and sat cross legged. Fitz placed a hand on her knee. "You're alright, yeah?"

Jemma nodded, still a bit breathless. "Yeah, I'm fine," she patted her stomach, offering a small smile. "We both are,"

Fitz grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling to him so he could place a kiss on her hairline. She didn't resist. "Good. I just . . . When the lights went out and we couldn't find you . . ." He breathed out a heavy breath. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Skye got to me first," she whispered, feeling a twinge of guilt at what she had been about to do. "Speaking of whom . . ." She prodded his knee with her own.

"Oh, right," he scratched behind his ear, which she'd come to determine as a nervous tick. "Skye's not human,"

Jemma gave him a flat look. "You don't say,"

"She's what they call an Inhuman. Dunno why.  They're part alien, mostly human." He scrunched his nose. "When their biology is exposed to terrigen - a, um, substance - it changes. Gives them an ability,"

"Ah," Jemma nodded. She felt like she should be horrified or traumatized at this point, but to be honest this might not even be the strangest thing she'd seen.  Hey, she was a super spy. Why not toss in some sci-fi, just for good measure? "So she can . . . Blast people,"

"Quake," Fitz shrugged.

Lizzie grinned from her position with a coloring book. "Uncle Mack calls her that,"

Jemma decided not to push on who this Mack character was. Lizzie had far too many Aunts and Uncles to count on one hand.

Popping of gunfire sounded from outside, and Fitz lunged to pull Lizzie closer under the desk. Jemma tried to make herself as small as possible against the drawers, though the Kevlar vest she was still wearing didn't make it the easiest.

Fitz grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her under along with them. Immediately, the three of them were cramped in a five-walled cube.

The room was silent save for their breaths and the gunfire outside. Fitz was just opening his mouth to propose they make a run for it when a loud buzzing erupted, accompanied by a bright blue light.

Fitz sighed gratefully. "It's just Lincoln,"

Jemma chewed on her lip. "Another Inhuman, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah," Fitz muttered, clamping his hands around Lizzie's ears. The girl glared at him in the darkness, but didn't resist.

There was the sound of bodies slamming into brick, cries from the fallen agents. It made Jemma's stomach roll. As horrid as it was, it gave her a rush of affection for Fitz. He really was a great father to Lizzie, protecting her from the war around them.

What felt like hours later - though it was really only minutes - the door to the office burst open. Jemma's hands instinctively tightened around the gun, though she had no idea how to use it.

"FitzSimmons?" A male's voice echoed.

A sigh of relief escaped the two adults. It was Lincoln. Fitz let go of Lizzie and the three of them crawled out. Jemma allowed a grin onto her face as she breathed in clean air.

Fitz gave Lincoln a nod. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," the inhuman gave a tight nod. There was a trickle of blood sliding down his cheek from a gash on his eyebrow, but otherwise he seemed relatively well. Jemma shielded Lizzie from his sight. "Just took a hook to the eye. Nothing major, I'm sure,"

"And HYDRA?" He questioned again.

"May was guessing two or three waves. From what we've hacked from their coms, they're after the machine," Lincoln took a deep breath, landing his gaze seriously on Jemma. "And anyone exposed to it,"

It took but a second for her heart to stop. The rational part of her argued over that, but she didn't care.

HYDRA - a criminal organization hellbent on work domination - was after her. And from the looks of their blatant, unnecessary casualties, they weren't playing nice either.

Fitz recovered first. "Y-You mean Jemma?" His brow crinkled, and she felt her ribcage twitch with pain. This wasn't fair - not for herself, but for them. They didn't deserve to have to this much stress tossed upon them, not on top of the fact she was already dead weight to them.

Lincoln nodded softly, expression grim. "I'm sorry,"

Fitz just nodded, the new stress making him look older somehow. More weary. "Alrigh,'" he whispered, swiping a hand over his head. "Alright," he repeated, louder.

Jemma bit her lip, looking down. She had never hated herself so much as she did now. It made her wish she had used that razor on her arm - pregnant or not.

She had ruined this, hadn't she? Fitz didn't deserve this, an amnesiac wife who barely knew how to take care of her daughter or pull her weight in the lab. A dead weight to everyone.

"Okay then," she nodded. "I . . ." Jemma sucked in a breath. "I'll leave,"

"Jems," Fitz turned on his heel. His face was screwed up, disbelieving. "What d'ya mean?"

"I'll leave," she repeated, a bit more firm. "I'll go home, to Sheffield,"

And she swore his face had never broken more then that instant when she stated home was elsewhere.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, okay! I'm off to see Civil War with my buddies :) No spoilers, I promise!
> 
> I didn't have time to respond to comments, life is super hectic at the moment, so I'll jump on those either later today or tomorrow. So sorry!
> 
> But thank you all SO MUCH for the birthday wishes! It was a really tough day, so seeing all those comments lit up my world :)


	10. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is where the plot pace begins to pick up! Hope it's worth the mini-wait. :)
> 
> So, I'm not a huge StaticQuake shipper, but it fit, so I'm going with it. Prepare for lots of Lincoln, as I enjoy his character though he could be much further developed in the show . . .

 

"I'll go home, to Sheffield,"

Fitz's face broke. "Jems, you can't be serious-"

She nodded, looking down sheepishly. It had played out better in her head over the past few days, but now that it was out there it didn't seem quite so simple.

"I . . . I just," her hand did a dance in the air as she searched for the right words. "I can't do this anymore, Fitz. Be a Mum when it's quite obvious that -"

"She loves you?" He bit back. "That she hasn't complained once through all of this? She's trooping through it, Jemma. For you. The least you can do -"

"- is try?" She snapped back at him. "That's all I've been doing, Leopold. Trying to -"

Lincoln let his gaze dart between the two of them. It seemed he or some other poor agent was always getting caught in the middle of these things.

"- can't remember -"

"- not my bloody fault -"

"- shouldn't have let you go into -"

"- if you would get your head out of -"

"- we're all just -"

"-and listen to me -"

"Enough!" Lincoln slammed his fist down on the table. Both scientist's mouths snapped shut. Lizzie peeked back out from where she'd taken shelter behind the desk.

"This is not the time or place," he muttered finally. "I'm sorry, but you need to put aside whatever this is and shelve it for some other time. We're under attack, in case you've forgotten,"

Jemma bit her tongue, not daring to meet anyone's eyes. Her cheeks were on fire.

"M'sorry," Fitz mumbled at last. "That was wrong,"

Lincoln nodded, turning and stalking off to the door. "I'm going to do a sweep of the area. Keep your talk for another time,"

Jemma winced when she heard the door slam. Fitz let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his curls. "I'm sorry,"

Jemma raised her eyes to his hesitantly. "It's alright. I'm sorry too, for what it's worth."

"S'not your fault," he muttered, walking around the desk separating them to pick Lizzie up. "We're all jus' under a lot of stress,"

His brogue had returned heavily in his upset. Despite herself, she couldn't help but find it rather handsome.

She had - or at least sixteen year old her - already pegged her type to be stronger, more manly than Fitz. But every day she spent with him, she began to realize why she'd fallen in love.

Fitz was unlike anyone she'd ever met. He was beyond intelligent, caring to a fault, loving to the point it hurt. He was an open book, a warm favorite whose pages she could read again and again and never tire of. He -

She stopped herself suddenly. This wasn't her. This couldn't be. Fitz was just a man, like all the rest. He wasn't any more than appeared on the cover, she consoled herself. Oh, and she was supposed to be mad at him.

Jemma looked up to find he had settled Lizzie onto his hip, whispering apologies into her curls. His eyes were slightly damp, blinking rapidly.

"Fitz-" she started to apologize, but he softly cut her off.

"We'll talk later, yeah?"

Jemma let her eyes fall shut as she blew out a breath. "Yeah,"

* * *

 

Lincoln ducked around another corner, clenching his palm so it crackled with static. His target was just ahead - a lone HYDRA agent.

The man crept along slowly, assault rifle at the ready. His trigger finger tightened impulsively before releasing, which Lincoln allowed himself a small smirk of pride at. The agent was nervous, meaning more likely to screw something up at one point or another.

Lincoln pulled himself up to his full height and wound up, letting his ability arc through the air in a crackling whip. The agent went down hard, convulsing and screaming from the amount of electricity exposed to his system.

Barely having broken a sweat, Lincoln stalked over to the fallen agent. His tac gear still smoldering slightly, he hauled him up by the collar of his shirt.

"I've got the leader," Lincoln barked into his com. "Where do you need him, Morse?"

There was only a second of delay before the reply crackled through. "Vault D, Campbell. Nice work,"

"No problem. News from Skye?"

Bobbi took a moment. "I'll see you at the vault,"

The coms went silent.

Lincoln's blood ran cold despite the adrenaline rush. Something was wrong.

"Bobbi?" He snapped. "Bobbi, I swear to god -"

"Vault D," came the clipped response. Despite her clinical words, even Lincoln could hear the underlying worry.

He hefted his hostage into a fireman's hold. "I'll see you there,"

* * *

 

Lincoln tossed the unconscious corpse on the ground at Bobbi's feet. The Mockingbird simply scribbled down a few things on a sheet of paper - tablets had been blown out by the EMP.

"Skye,"

Bobbi sighed, rubbing her temple tiredly. "Her coms went quiet around twenty minutes ago. It could just be the mechanics in her gauntlets gave out, but there's always . . ." She trailed off.

_HYDRA got to her,_ Lincoln ran his hands through his hair. There was still the slight possibility that her gauntlet's electricity system shorted. Fitz had designed them to be self sufficient in energy supply, only powered by the use of her abilities. Judging by the base had been shaking, she had been using them quite a bit. Something could have gotten knocked loose.

"Okay," he muttered, stalking over to the other half of Fitz's EMP-resistant machine and giving it a shock. It had been equipped to use Lincoln's ability to fire up the communications, though it had to be recharged for every thirty minutes of use. "Then I'm heading out."

"Lincoln, mate-" Hunter tried to stall him, but the Inhuman shoved him aside.

"I'm not leaving her out there," he growled, exiting the vault.

No one stopped him.

 

* * *

 

_Twelve Hours Later_

* * *

 

Coulson tiredly rubbed his head, taking in the agents assembled around him.

Mack, sporting his arm in a sling leaned dejectedly against the wall. May stood off to the side, stoic as ever. Bobbi and Hunter were paired off, as usual for the couple. Fitz sat dejectedly, alone.

He sighed. "We should have seen this coming."

"Damn right," Hunter muttered, glaring at the floor. Coulson ignored him.

"But for now, I want a run down. Fitz?"

The engineer continued staring out the window, lost in thought. His hand twitched slightly in his lap.

"Fitz," Coulson repeated, causing his head to snap up.

"Yeah?"

"Debrief, please."

The man gave a sigh of his own. "Um, they - HYDRA - EMP'ed the base. Sent a team to blow out the north entrance, stormed us," Fitz took in a breath. "'Course you already knew that. Second wave took Skye, tried to get the memory machine. The machine was destroyed in the process,"

"But wasn't the machine already-" Mack tried to start, but Fitz cut him off sharply.

"It was already _damaged_ , but with time it would have been . . . " he struggled for a moment. "Salvageable. Here those animals just mucked it completely up. Nothing to save,"

"What he's saying is it's done," May muttered, striving to move on.   
Coulson pressed on. "And what does this mean for Agent Simmons?"

Fitz rubbed his bloodshot eyes tiredly, the bags underneath seeming darker. "I don't know," he mumbled. "All of my leads are gone,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, those of you who have been following me since my earlier days know that my springs/summers are ridiculously hectic. I have three siblings, and they all play baseball while I assistant coach. One of which is in a travel league, meaning we could drive 150 miles plus just for one weekend long tournament. So between that and moving cross-country, expect updates to be more infrequent :( I won't go more than two weeks without updating, but I'll aim for a chapter once a week instead of twice. Sorry, guys!
> 
> On the other hand, thank you so much for all of the kudos and reviews! It's amazing and makes my day every time I open up my inbox :)


	11. Nothing Lasts Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys flipped last chapter over that tiny scene, then boy do you have something to flip over today ;) Not to sound cocky, of course . . .
> 
> Grammar mistakes are high on this one. I have a friend over so I woke up ahead of her to hide out in the bathroom, where I am currently posting this from. Dedication or addiction, I still can't decide XD

>  

"Fitz," she manages, hesitant in the entrance to the lab.

Said engineer looked up, blue eyes exhausted and over worked. He was hunched over a pile of wires and metallic pieces, pliers in hand. "Simmons,"

He looked so drained it nearly physically pained her. Jemma still didn't understand why she felt so close to him - yes, they were married. But that didn't automatically give sixteen year old her the opportunity to like him. Or to even to strive to make him happy.

"I, um," she cleared her throat. "I was wondering if . . . While Lizzie's down, if we could talk," her hands were woven together over her stomach that was just beginning to swell. "If you're not busy, of course,"

"No, just a few things. If you'll let me clock out here, I could meet you back at the bedroom," it was more a question than an statement, one which she nodded eagerly to.

"Yes, of course." She blurted in a rush, heading off to the bunks.

Passing Lizzie's room, she made sure to peek in and ensure the young girl was still asleep. A smile graced her at the sight of her curled around her stuffed monkey.

Reluctantly letting the door slip shut, she padded into her own room and toed off her shoes to sit atop the mattress.

I've mucked this all up, Jemma clenched her eyes tightly shut against the burning. Her head hung in her hands.

After all they had been through, she was about to destroy it all. Fitz was going to be torn apart, and Lizzie -

Oh, god . . . Lizzie.

She was her daughter biologically. But in her head, she was still just a sixteen year old girl. A child, if she was being completely honest. Not a twenty eight year old mother to be.

She just couldn't . . . Be there. Be the mother that either of them wanted or needed. She simply wasn't strong enough. Wasn't old enough at heart.

Fitz was neglecting his duties to SHIELD to spend time with her and Lizzie, and then working horrid hours of the night on what he could attempt to salvage of the machine.

She was hurting him.

And then Skye was missing, something that was mainly her fault. If she hadn't of been so helpless, the Inhuman would still be here. Lincoln wouldn't be missing his fiancé.

In the process of tearing apart her own family, she had also ripped someone else's.

* * *

 

Fitz dragged his feet in closing up shop in the lab. The talk with Jemma was long over due - their little scuffle had taken place over forty eight hours ago - so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Still, a small part of him had still been hoping she'd given up.

He paused outside their closed door, softly running a hand through his loose curls. Here goes nothing.

Jemma was lying on the bed, reclining peacefully against the pillows. Her hands were folded over her tiny bump, hair haloed around her on the pillow.

He caught his breath; she looked just like that first day, their first night.

* * *

 

_"Fitz," she looked sadly up at him with round doe eyes, frightened, but masking it with faux bravery. "We need to talk,"_

_He gazed down at her, feeling the pit opening in his stomach. Here comes the pain, the inevitability that they could never be a them. "I know,"_

_"My room," she spoke, softer with relief. "Tonight, after dinner,"_

_"Alright,"_

* * *

_She was resting, eyes closed but a wide smile on her face. Her chest was still rising and falling rapidly, the rush gradually draining from her veins. Hair spread about her, she looked an angel._

_He curled himself around her, hugging her close to him. She had said it for the first time that night. And so had he._

_Years of things unsaid has swirled around them, but each couldn't quite pluck up the right combination to describe their feelings. His "More than that" and her "maybe there is" - nothing could summarize what they'd been through. What they had endured to get to this moment._

_And so, like a couple of love struck teenagers, they both repeated the most overused phrase in the history of mankind._

_I love you._

_Three simple words led to a simple kiss, and that simple kiss led to a less simple one until they were putting out years of sorrow and joy and the unsaid things in every cautious movement of hand or lip. Together they learned each other in a new way, unknowingly creating something new._

_And they lay in the rubble of their friendship and the dawn of their relationship. His lips pressed softly against the shell of her ear, whispering what the boy at the bottom of the ocean hadn't been able to say._

_I love you, Jemma._

_And she turned, the halo of brown curls gone so she could look into his eyes. A breathless smile graced her as she ran a hand gently through the curls at the side of his head. Her legs twined with his, she pulled him to her for a gentle kiss._

_But perhaps the best part was that she said it in return. She loved him back, and that was more than he could ever possibly ask for._

 

* * *

 

  
When he came back, she was calling out his name worriedly.

"Fitz?" She sat up, brows furrowed as she moved to get up. "Are you alright?"

"Mm," he grunted, running a hand over his forehead. "Yeah, just consulting my mind palace," he gave a weak chuckle.

"Your what?" Jemma looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"It's from-" Fitz cut himself off abruptly. She wouldn't understand. "It's from a show. Sherlock. We'll, um . . . Have t' watch it some time."

She nodded slowly, though still visibly puzzled.

"'S one of your favorites . . ." He murmured, the ground holding his focus so much she almost didn't hear him. Eyes jumping up, he cleared his throat. "Erm, you wanted to ah . . . Talk?"

She was startled out of her own musings. "Oh, yes,"

When neither of them moved, Jemma slid over on the bed so her feet dangled over the side. She patted the empty space beside her. "Here,"

He startled, blinking rapidly before registering. "Right,"

Fitz sat gently beside her, keeping a good distance between the two of them. Jemma didn't meet his eyes when he glanced at her, opting for her twisting hands instead.

Again, he was reminded of that first night all those years ago. Too many unsaid things, too many half done words. Neither knew where to start on the broad topic of them.

The air felt thicker, like a heavy blanket on his shoulders. He sighed softly, taking in a deep breath before diving into the unknown.

"You want to leave,"

He regretted it before the last words were even out of his mouth. Hurt flared across her vulnerable features, making her look so young and raw.

She swallowed heavily, still failing to meet his eyes. "Yes,"

He bit his tongue, trying not to bite back with all the things he felt. "Why?"

"I don't know," A sigh escaped her as she rested her head in her hands, leaving the rest of her words lightly muffled. "I just . . . I don't feel . . ."

Her voice trailed off, lost. But he didn't need to hear her finish it, to hear her try to come up with words that were too broad to explain how she felt.

Fitz had felt it himself. He'd woken up in a place familiar once, only to find a tube stuffed down his throat and a needle in his wrist. He knew what it felt like to be trapped in your own skin, helpless, as the world kept turning and people continued to expect what they always had of you. To feel incapable and stupid, left like a child in an adult world once so easily understood.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand. It rested lightly on her knee, gentle enough that she could move and it would be gone, but still heavy enough to let her know he was there.  That though they may be separated by years of lost moments, he understood. Their bond wasn't broken, not at all.

"I can't, Fitz." Jemma broke the silence with her quiet British lilt. "She deserves so much more than me. You're so good to her, and Skye . . . Oh, god, Skye . . ." Her breaths shuddered. "It's my fault, Fitz. They took her because of me, because I can't remember. And Lincoln-"

He cut her off by pulling her tightly to his chest, running his palms up and down her shaking back. She closed her eyes at the blissful heat seeping from his hands into her skin.

"It's not your fault, Jems. You know that," he whispered soothingly, playing lightly with the short curls at the base of her neck. "Skye went after those agents - for you. You're her sister. She's taking care of you." He clenched his eyes shut, willing himself not to break down like the girl in his arms. "Any of us would have done the same. To lose you," he swallowed tightly, "I lost you once . . . God, Jems, I can't do that again."

Jemma pulled back, the memory from a dream just a few nights ago playing again. She had left him. When her needed her most, she had left him.

She looked at him through her tears, trying to make out his face. Heat seeped through her thin yoga pants, allowing her to see just how close his body had come to hers. Her eyelids blinked again, letting him come into fuzzy focus.

The rest of the world faded out as her gaze narrowed to him. His eyes, so blue. He looked kicked, an open wound. A hand still rested on her hip, still reminding her of his very near presence.

Fitz seemed to realize where his hand rested as soon as she did, and he began to pull back. But before he could, she grabbed his collar and pulled his face to hers.

Their lips met in the middle, her hands still firmly grasping his shirt until they began to wind around his neck. His own began to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

She let out a small noise against his mouth, only to jolt her back to reality. She was kissing him. And he wasn't pulling away.

Jemma jumped back, Fitz doing the same. His eyes widened, looking up at her in panic.

"Jemma, I'm so -"

"No," she cut in, her words deadly quiet. "That was me . . . I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have ever . . ." Kissed him? You're his bloody wife!

She ended in a sigh, pacing the ground for a few steps before stopping. Her hands ran futilely through her hair before pressing against her eyes. Another breath escaped her, seeming final. "It won't happen again. I'll leave tomorrow,"

"Jemma-"

"Fitz," she almost laughed, her tears blurred the room into a mosaic. "I can't stay here. I can't keep hurting you,"

"You'd never hurt me, Jem. Never," his words were infused with a passion she'd never quite heard before.

"But I did," she whispered. "I hurt you when you already hurting, even when I didn't mean to. I thought . . ." Her face crinkled up as she drew on the memory. "I thought I was helping you, like that saying. "If it's true love, let it go and it will come back.""

A small sob escaped him. Ten years ago, with Jemma sobbing in his lap over her recent breakup with a boyfriend, he'd whispered those words in her ear.

But then it hit him again. It applied to him as much as her.

He had to let her go.


	12. Let Her Go

The airstrip was cold and dreary.

Water dripped from the edges of drainpipes, puddling in the roads. People hurried by the windows of the terminal, umbrellas out and coat collars turned up against the biting wind.

Jemma stood quietly off to the side while Fitz checked her luggage in and printed her boarding pass. A hole had opened in her chest, and she didn't quite know how to fill it.

It was two days since their talk, since Fitz had been her definition of normal. He used to be bright eyed and sharp, but his joy had dulled to a dim spark. It didn't take two PHDs to know what had caused his sullen behavior change.

Jemma but her lip guiltily, looking down at where her carry on was hanging. It seemed that at this point, no matter what she did, she was going to hurt someone.

First Skye, whom had been taken while trying to save her. Next Lizzie, who refused to leave the base today to see her mother off. And then Fitz, who had seemed to be on the verge of depression for days.

The arm cradling her small baby bump reminded her that this was for the best. Fitz had been stressing adamantly for nearly two weeks over how to heal her mind that he couldn't focus on anything - or anyone - else. It wasn't fair for her to be the center of his priorities when there was a world that needed his full focus. When he had a daughter that needed him.

He would have time to concentrate on what needed him most - Lizzie and SHIELD. Jemma would be fine. Her and their unborn child. The memories were appearing at vague moments, though mostly in dreams. Eventually she would be normal, more or less. Eventually she could return as the mother Lizzie so desperately needed and the wife Fitz deserved.

So she took her boarding pass with a small smile and a "thank you."

Fitz took her bag for her, and after a moment of hesitance her hand. She gave it a slight squeeze as they headed to the security checkpoint. It was time to say goodbye.

He placed her carry on on the ground beside them, taking her other free hand with his now empty one. She watched him swallow deeply before raising his eyes to meet hers.

"Take care of the babe," he whispered, rolling a thumb over her knuckles. "And yourself."

She nodded, blinking back her tears. "I promise." She hesitated a moment before adding, "And you take care of Lizzie,"

A smile ghosted over his face before he nodded. "I promise."

He let her right hand go before carefully lifting it to her stomach. His palm gently touched their child through the fabric of her shirt, silently bidding him or her goodbye.

She sucked in a shaky breath as he straightened himself, gently cupping her cheek. "I know . . . I know you don't feel anything for me, Jems. Not right now, but . . . " he shook his head softly, eyes meeting hers with a weight she hadn't seen on him before. "I love you, no matter what, alright? No matter what, nothing will make me stop."

"Not an ocean, not the atmosphere and certainly not an alien planet could keep us apart," she breathed, not quite realizing what she was saying before the words had left her lips.

His eyes sparked in their blue depths. "You . . . You remember?"

She swallowed heavily, trying not to cry at how she was hurting him. "I don't think anyone could forget their own wedding vows."

He let out a shaky breath before pulling her into a hug, breathing in the scent of her coppery hair one last time and committing the fit of her body against his. She gazed into his eyes as his lips met hers in a brief kiss.

And then he let her go.

* * *

 

The flight was smooth, with only mild turbulence.

It was rather ironic, considering how very busy and turbulent her own mind was. Her thoughts leapt from Lizzie to Fitz to her parents whom would be waiting for her at the airport.

The Anna Simmons Jemma remembered was not the woman waiting to meet her. Her fingers were worn and wrinkled, her hair graying and thin. Likewise, Josiah Simmons was nothing the same.

They weren't her parents as she remembered. Her mother didn't walk the young spunk she had used to. Her father's frame was hunched. They had grown old.

Jemma promptly broke down sobbing, her parents trying to comfort her as much as possible. The little Fitz had explained to them over the phone wasn't enough, promising he would explain more once everything was set in motion.

"Jems," her father soothed, pulling her to his chest. She clung to his coat, pressing her face further into the coarse fabric as she cried. He still smelled like she remembered - the earthy scent with a twinge of cologne. He felt like home, like nights lying under the stars and days spent romping out in the fields behind the farmhouse.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, his hands rubbing at her back. "I'm so sorry,"

* * *

 

Fitz barely made it back to their - his - room on the base. The second the door was shut behind him, his façade collapsed.

He'd played the strong card for almost two days now. _I'm fine._ No one pushed it. Each and every agent on this base had had their fair share of pain. They understood the value of a few hours of solitude.

His chest felt heavy with all that he'd left unsaid. Like he hadn't tried hard enough, tried to keep her here. But then her words came back to him, and he would remember why he let her go in the first place.

Fitz collapsed heavily on the bed, head falling into his hands. He'd lost his best friend, his wife and his lab partner all in one day. Not to mention their second child.

The handle on the door rattled, breaking him from his trance. He looked up just in time to see Lizzie run in and slam the door behind her before jumping to sit next to him.

He opened his arms, letting her curl into his lap. Her little arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

She was a cuddler like her father, as Jemma had once told him. Said it was his fault that she despised the crib as a baby, only content to be held or rocked. Preferably at the same time.

Now, he looked down at his daughter and saw nothing but Jemma. The way she'd fall into his arms at night after a long mission, or cuddle with him after a trying lab day. Simply the way they showed their love everyday through small gestures and pecks on the cheek.

He ran his hand softly over the mess of curls on his daughter's head. Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like to come home after Maveth and not be immediately shoved into fatherhood. Would he and Jemma ever have really gotten together? Had their date end with a kiss outside her bunk?

But then he would remember the tender moments of first holding their newborn daughter, of the screams from her tiny new lungs and the wide eyes that first stared at him. All of the little seconds and snapshots over the past few years would come flooding back, and Fitz would remember why it was all worth it.

Regardless of the struggles they'd each faced to get here - Jemma learning the trials of having a heartbeat depend on her own, and he of surviving solar systems away from her - it was all worth it. It had been painful and it still hurt sometimes, but no matter what they had each other.

_Or, at least, we did_ , he reflected bitterly. Once upon a time Jemma had given him a sliver of positive plastic and announced he was about to be a father to two. And he knew, in that instant, that he was going to be there for her. That no matter what happened she would never again endure what she did with Lizzie as a single mother. It was the two of them against the world, for better or for worse.

But she'd left. And no matter what, he couldn't hold it against her. Because he knew what it felt like to be trapped in your own mind, to be caged in a body that was once your freedom. He understood, and so he let her go.

Fitz didn't sleep that night. Instead he watched his daughter's chest rise and fall next to him, holding her tight and clinging to the fact that not all hope was lost. Jemma may not be here, but their child still was.

He wasn't alone, not by a long shot.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter. Sorry! But I'm seemingly deathly allergic to spring, so I'm not exactly at my best writing at the moment :(
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! I'm sitting alone in a hotel in Detroit whilst my family is out, so any reviews to keep me company would be much appreciated! :)


	13. I'd Like To Call It A Love Letter

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and all too soon Jemma was at the beginning of her third trimester.

Though painful at first, life in Sheffield had settled into an easy rythm. Her parents, though still much older than she remembered, were as welcoming as always. She had even made a friend - a young Colombian woman named Elena.

Fitz had over all faded to the back of her mind, only reappearing in his regular phone calls and occasional mail. He'd made an effort for himself and Lizzie to fly out, but Jemma had insisted he save his vacation time for when the baby was born. Heaven knows she would need all the help she could get then.

His face kept appearing at night, in the darkness of her mind as she slept. Her dreams were no longer as vivid as they had been - nothing felt solid. It seemed over all abstract, a flash here and a glimpse there.

But overall, life felt normal. She had a life of her own, summery weather and the best support group she could ask for.

* * *

 

"Jems!" Her mum called up the stairs one morning as she was dressing. "You have some post!"

Jemma finished slipping into a shirt, grabbing her phone as she headed down the stairs.

Anna offered her a smile, passing a large brown box to her daughter. "Here you are. I imagine it's from Fitz, though the label's blank. You spies and your anonymous ways . . ."

"We're not spies, Mum," Jemma grinned, taking the box. "Though I'm still not sure exactly what we are."

Anna shooed her from the kitchen as she started on breakfast, leaving Jemma to wander into the sitting room to have a look at her package.

The return label was indeed blank, but judging from the printed monkey borders, it didn't take a genius to figure out who the sender was.

Jemma allowed herself a small smile as she rubbed at her now rather large bump. "Looks like daddy sent us a package."

She tugged at the tape to reveal a mound of pastel fabric. Greens, yellows, blues and even a few pinks all piled out.

Some were marked from Fitz, while others from Lincoln, Coulson and May. There was a bundle of pink blankets and onesies labeled _From Hunter, because it's a girl, love._ There was another bundle of the exact same contents, only blue, marked _From Bobbi, because Hunter's a douche and we all know it's a boy. XX_

Lizzie had made some homemade cards which read in rough handwriting: _I miss you_. Tears sparked in her eyes at the picture of four stick figures, each labeled as Daddy, Mum, Baby and Me.

But the real surprise was at the very bottom of the box, which held six small journals. A small Post-It note on top read:

I _was going through your things (please don't kill me) and I found these. Figured they might jog your memory ;)_

_\- Fitz_

Each was dated neatly, starting in late 2005 up to about two years ago. She figured the lapse in writing was due to motherhood being in full swing.

She skipped most of the first one, which she remembered writing. The TARDIS print was fading, but it still bore the effect of care over the years.

Settling in on the sofa, Jemma set in on the second journal.

* * *

 

_6/27/06_

_Today was the last of  freshman year exams. I stayed up all night studying, but it wasn't that bad because Fitz was with me. He's become a good friend._

_I think I passed most of my exams. I make no promises, but I can hope. Soon I'll be heading back home and I'll have a few weeks of relaxation before its back to studying. I'm almost there._

_I think I'm going to miss Fitz. Even though he won't shut up about that bloody capuchin he wants for the lab. I try to shut him down, but it's hard without squishing his feelings. He hasn't told me anything yet, but I have a feeling I know why he doesn't like arguing._

* * *

 

_9/1/06_

_Fitz is closing off for some reason. Last week he was fine, just like old times. But yesterday he seemed to be . . . Almost avoiding me. It's strange._

* * *

 

_9/8/06_

_Fitz is more or less back to normal. He was scaring me for a while there. I was afraid he was reverting back to how it all was before we made up. Strangely, I couldn't imagine that. It would be horrid._

_Today we began working on our . . ._

* * *

 

_6/5/07_

_It's officially June fifth, the day we've been working towards for quite a few months._

_The graduation ceremony went smoothly, which was quite a relief. I barely stuttered. Fitz, on the other hand . . ._

_Either way, it's been quite an eventful day. I have my PHd, and Fitz his. Next it's on to the academy._

* * *

 

_8/30/07_

_We moved into the academy today. It's magnificent! The dorms are huge, and there's so much space for experiments and notes. It's lovely._

_The dorm has two rooms across from each other. It took a while to get through all the paper work, but finally we were able to convince SHIELD that we would not be violating the fraternization policy. Really, not all of us are going at it like rabbits._

* * *

  
_9/24/13_

_We moved on the BUS today!_

* * *

 

_11/5/13_

_I almost died._

_By all means, I should be dead. The Chitauri virus infected me and I . . . Jumped._

_But he saved me. Fitz saved me. And now when I look at him it doesn't feel like it used to, and it scares me._

* * *

 

_11/12/130_

_They were going to kill him._

* * *

 

_5/6/14_

_I'm sitting in the hospital and looking at your face and all I can see is the flat line from twenty minutes ago, and the one an hour before that._

_You're dying, Fitz, and I'm sitting here like a bloody useless idiot. I could have saved you. If I'd swam just a bit faster, if I'd forced the oxygen on you._

_You said you loved me. At least, I think that's what you said. I don't know . . . It's all just a haze to me now._

_I'm being selfish. You're lying there dying and all I can think about is whether or not I love you too. Or if you even meant it._

* * *

 

_5/15/14_

_You woke up._

* * *

 

_5/15/14_

_I think I do._

* * *

 

_6/8/14_

_I'm so sorry, Fitz. I'm making you worse._

_You don't deserve this. You're a hero. That should be me barely able to hold a fork or speak straight._

* * *

 

_6/13/14_

_Goodbye, Fitz_

* * *

 

_8/24/14_

_He says you're getting better, but I'm not sure. You have more color in your cheeks now. At least that's what the camera tells me._

_I wonder if you can speak now. I wouldn't know, being kept here like a prisoner. Except I'm not being held captive, and_ _I'm_ _doing this for you._

* * *

  
_9/8/14_

_Your hand still shakes._

* * *

 

_12/17/14_

_Skye went into the temple, but it's not her that came out._

_How could you do this to me, Fitz? I understood before - I know why you didn't tell me about your dad. But why this? I could have helped, Leo . . ._

* * *

 

_5/8/15_

_Bobbi's laying on the bed in front of me, half dead. Once you would have told me not to be so dramatic, but I don't see you anymore._

_Hunter's holding her hand. It's like an exact replica of us after the pod. The only problem is that they're in love and we didn't know it._

_We need to talk._

* * *

 

_5/9/15_

_I swear I meant talk, but honestly, I'm rather proud of the aftermath._

_It's like a dream to wake up next to you. You held me, and when we were both awake, you kissed me. It's strange how much difference one conversation can make._

_Maybe we can give this another go. Maybe we can be together without SHIELD and constant fighting._

* * *

 

_5/11/15_

_You asked me out to dinner._

* * *

* * *

 

_5/11/15_

_I can't find you, Fitz._

* * *

 

_5/13/15_

_It took you. I don't know where, but I'll find you._

* * *

 

_6/11/15_

_I'm pregnant._

_I'm pregnant with my best friend's child and he's nowhere to be found._

* * *

 

_8/26/15_

_Where are you, Fitz? I'm swelling like a balloon. I want you to meet our baby._

* * *

 

_9/12/15_

_They want me to have an ultrasound. I won't do it, though. You deserve to have at least this much once you return._

* * *

 

_11/5/15_

_You're home._

_You're broken and battered and bruised, but you're home and kissing me and everything's going to be okay._

* * *

 

_11/19/15_

_We're having a little girl._

* * *

* * *

 

_1/15/16_

_We said hello to our daughter today._

* * *

 

_6/24/16_

_I think it's this moment that's kept me going for the past two years or so. They say that you're supposed to envision your future - wedding, kids, achievements- and see who's standing next to you._

_It was always you, Fitz. Perhaps the colors my mum picked out don't match what I had in my head, but all that matters is this white dress and you in your tux. We're together at last._

_Perhaps I didn't envision this moment with a daughter in the audience. Perhaps I didn't envision an Inhuman to be my maid of honor. And perhaps I didn't envision a Quinjet to be parked in the lot outside._

_But regardless, I think this is the best decision I've ever made. And I can't wait to start my life with you._

_X Jemma Fitz_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm checking out :P Off camping, so here's my update!
> 
> You can now find me on Tumblr! My user is WhenTheSkyeQuakes, but my blog page reads 'FitzSimmons Trash.' I'll be posting sneak peeks to my upcoming stories! I have more right now being written than I have published, so keep an eye out :)
> 
> And that's all :D Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to drop me a review / PM / message. I promise I don't bite :)


	14. Betrayal Is Always Unexpected

The Quinjet landed in the hanger with a harsh grinding of landing gear.

Fitz watched from the edge of the loading bay with anticipation. After all the months it had taken, his efforts had finally paid off. Or, at least, most of them.

The ramp lowered with a hum, allowing tired yet triumphant agents to trickle out. Fitz spotted Bobbi and Hunter amongst the throng, a few scrapes on their cheeks but otherwise no worse for the wear. Both had beaming grins.

Fitz jogged over to the crowd, pushing lightly through with a few mumbled apologies. Eventually the concrete of the hanger floor gave way to the metal of the Quinjet ramp.

And there she was, hair longer than he remembered, but still her. Skye grinned at him, hobbling on a pair of crutches with Lincoln by her side. A long red stripe cut across her cheekbone, but she appeared otherwise unharmed.

Fitz ran, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Bloody hell, Skye! 'Re you alright?"

The Inhuman laughed. "I'm good, Fitzy. Just a bit banged up from the escape," she gave his arm a squeeze as she pulled back.

Her eyes were alight with something akin to relief, but the emotion concealed something deeper. Darker. She seemed . . . Shaken.

_But who am I to judge?_  Fitz mused, watching the girl he'd come to think of as a little sister. The whole base was shaken. Perhaps the strongest Inhuman in SHIELD's recruitment had been snatched and held deep within HYDRA's clutches for months with no word. It had been a miracle to find her, let alone pull her out.

Fitz mentally shook himself, offering Skye another small smile. "I'll bet. Anything with Hunter in charge had to be a bit shaky."

The merc cast a glare in his direction from the other side of the hanger.

"Ears like a hawk, that one," he sighed under his breath. "Well, I'll leave you to it," he nodded at Lincoln. "I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on,"

Skye nodded tightly, watching him go.

* * *

 

Three days came and passed with no major events, save for a lab tech accidentally igniting a computer. How he did it, Fitz still wasn't sure.

The contact from Jemma had dwindled down to virtually nothing after his package containing her diaries had been delivered a week or so ago. Her letters - because she still wasn't completely caught up on texting and other more modern forms of communication - had been sparse to begin with. He could only hope that sending those books hadn't been a mistake.

Fitz sighed heavily, brushing sweat from his forehead with a grease cloth. It wasn't a good thing to let his mind wander while working. It had already cost him two cuts from the pliers he grasped. He shifted back into a lying position, allowing him better access to the circuitry of what he'd been able to recronstruct of the memory machine.

It had been all but ripped apart in the escape, just a mass of wires and scrap material. The thing still wasn't even functional. If it ever would be was beyond him.

His watch bleeped some time later. Fitz sat up, banging his head in the process. A grunt escaped him as he checked the alert.

_**Report to main office, effective immediately. - DC** _

Fitz frowned. The message had been sent on the encrypted line that was only to be used in case of mainframe sabotage. Something was wrong.

Well, more screwed than usual, anyway.

* * *

 

Jemma winced, relaxing further on the sofa to ease the birth weight. To be completely honest, aside from the jacked up hormones and aches and pains, being pregnant hadn't been all too bad. But in the past week or so the baby had been moving around much more than Jemma found even reasonably necessary, leading to more bladder and back issues.

"You know," he mother hummed, bustling about and pouring her another cup of the god-awful decaffeinated tea. "You were as restless as the little one. Couldn't wait to get out of me, I suppose," she tsked.

"Please don't make this awkward," Jemma groaned into a throw pillow as another painful seizing of her stomach rolled through her. "This is strange enough as it is."

"Last I checked, you were a biochemist and not a drama queen," she hummed in return.

Jemma didn't reply, and her mother didn't push it. It was much easier to take the toiling waves in silence rather than try to get through a sentence.

She was a little more than thirty-four weeks along at this point. Some days she found it hard to believe that in less than a month she would be holding a tiny human in her arms. Others she couldn't wait for the kid to come out so she could name it something horrible (like Leopold, or Edwina) to make up for the months of crap she'd had to put up with.

Nontheless, she often found her thoughts drifting further and further to Fitz. After everything damned thing they'd been through, after every horror and death, they were together. The books proved that much. She was supposed to love him.

And to be completely honest, she still didn't have a single idea as to what to feel about it.

Did she find something appealing about him? Yes. Did she feel something for him? Yes. Did she love him? Well . . .

Jemma sighed, rubbing her temples. Her mother cast a worried look in her direction, but Jemma ignored it. Pity wasn't something she actively sought over, or enjoyed. Life was life, and if she'd taken on a particularly large portion, so be it. She didn't need someone else to cast sorry looks in her direction.

She plucked a book from the end table, balancing it on her bump. If nothing else, it was a great excuse for a desk. The crackling sound of its spine was a comfort to her ears, and she allowed a small smile at the worn smell of its pages. Twenty-eight years of life, and she would never get over the feel of a new read.

Jemma drifted further into the world of Clary, leaving behind her own existence.

* * *

 

Fitz leaned back against the brick, ears perking up to catch Coulson's words.

The message hadn't been a mass send. Only the original few agents had gathered in the Director's office. With a start, Fitz realized that Coulson hadn't waited for Skye to appear. He simply started.

"Around a half hour ago, IT started picking up signals in the mainframe. From the looks of it someone planted a bug feeding straight to an external source - who that is, I'm not sure. All we know is that sooner or later all of SHIELD's files are going to be on another hard drive, and it's looking sooner rather than later. May and I are -"

Hunter stood up straighter. "Wait one second here. All of SHIELD's files - even, ahem, personal ones - are being drained to . . . another hard drive? As in, if I had something on my . . ."

Bobbi smirked. "Got something you want to share with the class, Hunter?"

"Hey," the mercenary glared. "I'm just clarifying for, y'know, others who may or may not have private evidence saved to their laptops." he waved his hand at a nonplussed Coulson. "Carry on, then,"

May rolled her eyes. "What he means to say is that someone on the inside is screwing up our tech. Who does that sound like to you?"

"Tremmors," Mack muttered, seemingly having also noticed Skye's absence.

Coulson nodded, pleased. "Exactly. For some reason, she's not exactly being subtle about it. Which means something greater is at play here,"

"But she's been back for days," Hunter protested. "A bit shaken, yeah, but why would she have any motives to bring down our mainframe? We're her friends. You're practically her parents," he tilted his chin towards Coulson and May. "All I'm saying, mate, is that none of this makes sense. Why would she want to tear down her own organization?"

"She was with HYDRA," Coulson reminded him. "Though I don't see how they got to her head this fast, it could have happened," he rubbed his forehead tiredly, and for a moment it looked to Fitz as if he'd aged a few more years.

The door slammed open before anyone could reply, and Lincoln stormed in, throwing it shut behind him. He was breathing heavily, looking as if he'd sprinted from the other side of the base. "Something's wrong with Skye," he burst out breathlessly.

"We know," Bobbi nodded, sliding a chair his way. "But what have you got?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "She - She hasn't been sleeping with me. In the literal sense," he rushed to add at the team's wide-eyed looks. "I figured, you know, PTSD or something. I had it after the accident. I know what it feels like. Well, last night I caught her out in the halls, sneaking around. She wasn't taking a walk, I promise you. She was screwing with the control panels. The electronics." Lincoln raked his fingers through his hair, swallowing heavily. "I didn't think much of it, but just now I was in the med wing and all the patient data - it's gone. And Skye - when I tried to confront her about it, she blasted me. It was like she didn't even know me, like she hated me, and I just . . ." he trailed off.

Fitz set his lips in a thin line. After the past few months, after seeing Jemma wake up and look at him like he repulsed her . . . to see her walk away, to want nothing to do with him or their daughter. He knew what it felt like.

He knew.

He . . . _knew_.

"Oh my god," Fitz breathed. "You've got to be bloody kidding me . . ." The team looked up at him with questioning expressions, eager to get filled in. Fitz shut his eyes heavily, wondering how he hadn't realized it sooner. The absence, the darkness he'd seen in her eyes that first day she got back. "The - The machine," he rasped out. "Ward used the machine on her - the one that took Jemma. He must have had another prototype stashed somewhere and . . ."

Lincoln's eyes widened. "Oh god,"

The silence stretched out between them, each taking in the sinking realization of what Fitz had just uncovered. A beat later, Coulson lunged for the phone.

"Peterson, shut down the base. I repeat, shut down the base,"

He slammed the phone back into the cradle, sliding open a desk drawer to withdraw a pistol. He tucked it into the waistband of his pants. "Morse, Hunter - I need you to take the north side. Campbell, Mack - you go south. Fitz, May, you're with me."

The teams rushed off, leaving the three to prep. The director had just tossed Fitz an ICER when the phone rang again.

"Damn it," Coulson muttered, retrieving it once more. "This had better be good," he barked once into the piece. His hands busily loaded an additional pistol, the receiver held in the cradle of his neck, bullets snapping into the clip. He froze suddenly, eyes darting to Fitz. "Yes, I - here he is,"

His eyes warily met the engineer's, and Fitz's stomach swooped. "It's Jemma. Look's like you're about to be a family of four,"

* * *

 

**I'm finally back, so sorry! Writer's block sucks :(**

**Find me on Tumblr - WhenTheSkyeQuakes :D**

**And the next chapter is going to have a large trigger warning. I'll announce it at the bottom so as no spoilers for everyone else. And prepare for some heavy angst, people! :(**


	15. Did I Disappoint You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. The chapter that you're all going to kill me for.
> 
> This is hands down the worst I've ever written, but I've been feeling like complete crap lately and it's all I can do to even open up my writing software. So I'm sorry that the climax of this fic is also the drop in writing quality.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS AND SPOILERS BELOW!!!! Do not read past this point in the A/N if you don't need triggers warnings.
> 
> Warnings for: miscarriage / abortion / loss of child / stillborn. I had a family friend who had a stillborn daughter and she was very on edge for months after the loss. We still can't bring it up without her breaking down. I'm not sure if everyone's this sensitive, but I wanted to make sure.

 

Fitz took a moment, blinking. "I - I'm sorry?"

Coulson raised an eyebrow. "Your wife is -"

"No, no, I got that," he muttered, the enormity of the situation dawning on him. "Just - now?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I swear, that woman can never wait til an attack has ended!"

"Yes, I'm sure she programs her uterus," May deadpanned.

Fitz cringed before his eyes widened. "Oh, hell, I've got to get out there,"

Coulson nodded, grabbing the phone once more. "I'll get Bobbi on the nearest Quinjet. Get your bag and Liz,"

Fitz nodded, tucking the ICER into his belt and dashing out the door.

* * *

 

Jemma panted heavily, knuckles curling in the sheets. A cry escaped her as her insides churned, another wave of pain cascading through her.

Machines buzzed around her, but she tuned them out. All she could focus on at the moment was that in a few hours she would be holding her child, a perfect blend of her and Fitz.

Her head tossed to the side as another contraction rolled out. Whiskey eyes opened and for a moment she swore Fitz was right there next to her. She blinked, only for the mirage to melt into surgical scrubbed doctors.

A midwife took up residence at her side, squeezing her palm reassuringly. "It's going to be alright, love,"

Jemma tried to nod blearily, but another wave of pain hit. Wasn't there an epidural she could take? Something to numb this torture?

A crashing of waves on rocks, a fresh coat of paint. So the pain rolled, and the girl rolled with it.   
  


* * *

Fitz dashed madly into Lizzie's room. The hallways were crawling with agents to the point he'd rather not have her see, so he took extra care to lock the door behind him.

His eyes roamed over the bed before taking in a mop of curls tucked beneath a blanket. A relieved breath escaped him; nothing had awakened her from her nap.

Fitz tugged her backpack from the closet and stuffed it with what he believed were decent matching clothing. He'd have to ask Jemma later.

_Toothbrush . . . Brush . . . Does she need bows?_

His eyes darted, panicked, over the colorful array of hair accessories. His own knowledge ended at braids and the elastics used to keep them.

He sighed, and with a sweep of the arm all of Jemma's meticulously organized ribbons, clips and elastics tumbled into the backpack.

Better all than none.

* * *

 

"Where're we goin'?" Lizzie mumbled for the umpteenth time, releasing her hold on Fitz's neck to rub at her bleary eyes.

Fitz offered her a hurried smile. "To see your mum,"

"I know that," she protested weakly. "I mean them," she pointed to the agents flowing down the hall.

Fitz inwardly cringed. "I, um, security drill,"

Lizzie sighed, seemingly bored by the response, and dropped her head to his shoulder. By the time they reached the Quinjet, she was out cold.

* * *

  
"F-Fitz," Jemma ground out, the single word drawing out into a groan.

Someone - she didn't care to find who - squeezed her hand. The person loosened their hold, but didn't let go completely.

As the next contraction broke over her moments later, Jemma squeezed the hand tightly.

It was strange, she'd realize later, how that single touch meant so much. How it brought back a flood of memories, a storm of pain and tears and laughter.

Because in that moment, Jemma Simmons remembered.

* * *

 

Fitz finished clicking the final clip on Lizzie's car seat, securing the girl into one of the Quinjet's seats. Perhaps the manufacturer had never intended for it to be in used in a military air craft, but it worked nonetheless.

He smiled softly at her sleeping form, leaning to brush a kiss along her curls before swinging up into the copilot seat next to Bobbi.

She murmured a few final words into her mouthpiece before shooting him a lop sided grin. "What's up, dad?"

He groaned, swiping a hand across his eyes. "Please, Morse. I'm stressing enough as it is."

Her blue eyes followed his restless tapping foot, and his equal use of drumming fingers. Her smirk stayed firmly in place. "You're not he first father to stress out, you know. It's all going to be okay. You're going to get there and the nurses are going to whisk you right upstairs, and then you'll see her. And then it won't be long before you're holding your little son or daughter and nothing's wrong."

He offered her a tired smile. "You seem to know a lot about this type of thing."

"I should," Bobbi's grin dropped a few watts. "I mean, had one of my own,"

Fitz's head whipped around to face her, shock blooming across his features. "You - what?"

Bobbi chuckled, but her seriousness leaked through.  "Between you and me, I've done the whole kid/parent thing. SHIELD was still standing, Hunter and I had just split. Kid was an accident, but I couldn't abort him. So I took some time off and got my crap together, gave birth, yada-yada. The baby - he's around ten, now - was put in the system, found a set of parents." She smiled softly, and Fitz couldn't help but realize she felt at peace with the decision. "He's a good kid. I drop in as substitute at his elementary sometimes. He may not be as smart as Liz, but he's tough. And got Hunter's mouth, unfortunately."

"Really? You, soccer mom Morse?" Fitz chuckled. "I never would have guessed."

Bobbi punched him playfully, laughing. "Shut up,"

"No, really though," Fitz sobered. "Don't you wish you'd . . . Y'know, been there? Had a kid or two more, done the whole parent thing?"

Bobbi shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder, but then you have to remember I have the most unreliable job possible, and on top of that the most unstable taste in relationships. It wouldn't have been possible to raise him right. Fun? Hell, yeah. But safe? Secure? No. He's good where he is."

The engineer settled back into his seat. thinking. "That's . . . A hard decision to make."

"So is letting your wife go," she pointed out. "It's not easy, and it hurts like hell, but in the end, it's the best thing for everyone."

"Yeah," Fitz said quietly. "But at least I get her back eventually."

Bobbi winced, looking out the window. "That's true. But you have to remember that that's her choice. Connor - my kid - I don't think he'd come back with me if he had the choice. He has loving parents, a good school, friends . . . I can't give him any of that. But you, Fitz," her eyes were moist, but bright. "You can give her love and peace and a family. I - I can't do that."

Fitz reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. "You did the right thing." He decided. "You're as tough as hell, Barbara Morse,"

Bobbi laughed lightly, eyes dancing. "Maybe. But no matter what, my problems don't matter anymore. You've got a wife waiting for you, and I think your kid is in a hurry to meet you,"

* * *

 

Their child was born twenty two inches long and six pounds, nine ounces.

As Jemma let out one final scream and one final push, a little boy was born.

The biochemist lay there in sweet relief, sweaty and hot, but released of her burden. Aftershocks flowed through her veins, sharp yet nothing compared to just minutes before. Tiredly, she found some burst of energy to sit up slightly, trying to peek around the curtain.

The room had been doused in silence since the final contraction, and she still had yet to hear or see her baby.

"Hello," she called out timidly, hoarsely.

The midwife from earlier came into her line of sight, offering a small, pained smile. Jemma's brow creased at her saddened state.

She sat down next to the bed, taking Jemma's hand. A rock settled into her stomach as she began to speak.

"Ma'am -"

"Jemma,"

"Jemma," she corrected herself, "I, um, have a bit of news for you,"

Jemma's eyes began to water. "Yes?"

"Your child, he's -"

Jemma shook her head violently. "No."

The ceiling was crashing in, the ground was spinning. It felt like a white noise had taken up residence in her hazy, drugged mind. Her vision tunneled to the woman before her, clad in blue scrubs and a weathered face.

The midwife cleared her throat, eyes heavy as she tightened her grip on Jemma's hand. "I know this is -"

" _No_ ,"

"- it's difficult to -"

" _Shut up_!" Jemma screamed, ripping her hand away with a sudden burst of strength. "Just shut up! I want to see my baby!"

"Ma'am -"

A doctor came up from behind, silencing the woman with a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Margie. Just go wash up,"

The woman nodded heavily, turning away and out of sight.

The man took one look at Jemma and signaled to someone off behind the curtain. There was a sound of acceptance before a bundle was being laid in her arms.

Jemma clutched it tightly against the exhaustion and pain in her lower half, against the world outside that was telling her it had all been in vain.

This was her _child_. This was the tiny thing that had been inside her for months, the tiny being that had kicked when she sang softly to it and shied away at the touch of an ice cube.

He was tiny and red and silent, half her and half Fitz. Small but chubby cheeks. Obviously a bit premature, but otherwise a human. A small, tiny, innocent human that had been her companion through the past, long confusing months. But his eyes wouldn't open and his chest wouldn't move.

Her baby was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can scream at me on Tumblr - WhenTheSkyeQuakes


	16. Did I Disappoint You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, okay, so I'm only a few chapters out from the end of this fic. It's not all pain, surprisingly.
> 
> Remember how light hearted it kinda started out? Well that's how we're gonna end. So stick with me, people :D

 

 

Sneakers squeaked along the linoleum as he ran, down the hall, up the stairs. After all, the elevator took far too long.

The room number repeated itself over and over like a mantra in his head. It wouldn't be long now until he could hold her in his arms, feel her heartbeat, smell the scent of her shampoo.

The birthing center came quickly, and dodging an orderly and a pair of nurses to avoid more time apart from his wife, Fitz slipped quietly through the doors.

His eyes darted quickly to the bed, and his breath caught in his throat.

After all these months, he was finally with her. His eyes weren't taking in her features through a phone screen, and her accent wouldn't be muffled through a speaker.

He caught himself before his legs went weak with excitement. It wouldn't do to collapse in front of her.

His excitement dimmed at the fact that she may very well still not remember him as he did her. But he brushed it aside. Regardless, he still loved her. This was still his best friend.

Her hair was fanned over the pillow in gentle waves, looking peaceful in her slumber. Long delicate eyelashes, the same he'd remembered studying after their first night together, laid delicately over her upper cheeks.

Tentatively, he reached out and took her hand. Her fingers, chilled as always, fit into his palm softly. Fitz settled into a chair to wait for her.

It was only as she began to awaken that he began to realize it - the absence. In his haste to get to his wife's side, he'd dismissed the reason of why she was here. Why they were in the birthing ward.

Her eyes fluttered open, and he could have sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of seeing her as if for the first time. She studied him silently for a beat, then their interlocked hands. Her mouth twisted into a small, saddened upturn of the lips.

"I'm so sorry, Fitz," she managed to grind out, her first words to him in nearly four months, spoken with her eyes pooling with tears. "I wasn't strong enough,"

* * *

 

It's a difficult thing to wrap your head around the fact that your child will never be able to grow up.

It's even more difficult to explain this to a three year old girl.

Lizzie laid on her mother's hospital bed, one of Jemma's arms curled around her as the two broached the topic. She stayed remarkably still and quiet, avoiding eye contact for most of the time.

Finally, at its end, Jemma smoothed a hand over her curls. "Do you have any questions?"

Lizzie was silent for a moment before answering. "Did he go to heaven?"

Fitz blinked once, then twice. As far as he knew, Jemma had never once tried to teach her about any sort of religion. It had always been science, because science was facts and facts were Jemma Simmons' life.

"I, ahm," he cleared his throat, but Lizzie rushed on.

"Auntie Skye says that when she was little, everyone there believed in heaven. It's a nice place to go when people die. Or the rats in Mommy's lab,"

Fitz shared a wide-eyed silent conversation with Jemma.

_"What does she mean rats?"_

_"Fitz, I swear I never told her what we used them for!"_

_"It's traumatizing even to me! Let alone -"_

_"- a three year old girl, yes, I know that!"_

_"Really, I can't believe -"_

"Does he?" Lizzie prompted, interrupting their conversation.

Jemma hesitated a moment. "Yes, dear. I'm sure he's up there right now,"

"Maybe Uncle Trip is up there, too. He's probably watching him until he gets older,"

Fitz smiled softly. "I'll bet he is, Monkey,"

Jemma blinked against the moisture in her eyes. _I'm sure he is._

* * *

 

"So . . . So you remember?" Fitz asked softly, studying her face in the golden light from the lamps. "The Academy, BUS . . . The stone?"

Jemma smiled gently, the expression feeling alien on her features in contrast to the pain in her chest. "I believe so. It all just . . ." She motioned to herself. ". . . Hit. It was amazing, really. I mean, I've read some accounts that a certain feeling can bring back certain memories." She sighed. "Shame it had to be the most painful experience known to man,"

Fitz winced. "Sorry, love. I should have . . . I should have been here."

Jemma knotted her brow, biting her lip. "There wasn't - wasn't anything you could have done, Fitz. He was stillborn, dead upon delivery,"

He watched the tears pool in her eyes as she spoke. Gently, he leaned forward to pull her into his shoulder. "Hey now, Jems. Hush now, it's okay, it's okay,"

She sniffled into his shoulder. "No it's not," her voice croaked. "He was our baby, Fitz. And I wasn't strong enough to save him. I promised you I'd take care of him and I just . . ."

She sobbed harder, her tears leaking through to his skin. He kissed her crown. "Maybe. But you know what? You also kept a promise."

Her mind quieted enough to flash back all those years ago, to the night he'd returned from the planet Death.

_"Promise me you'll come back to me. No matter what, that we'll always be able to find each other,"_

_"I promise. No matter what,"_

"You kept it, Jemma. We're here. We're together. And after everything, we still have each other,"  he was unable to fend off his own tears any longer, and together they wept.

* * *

 

Late that night, with Lizzie tucked into the hotel bed beside him, Fitz powered up his tablet. With the brightness lowered, he began to search.

It was wrong, somehow. In the wake of such a horrible occurrence he should be a crumpled up heap on the floor, sobbing. It was his son that had passed, after all.

But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to weep. He'd done enough of that with Jemma, and now with his daughter beside him, it wouldn't do any good. He had to be strong.

So he sifted through search after Google search,  looking for a ray of hope for his small family.

And, funnily enough, he found one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grins* Congrats, people! You've made it past the angst. It's 75% fluff from here on out.
> 
> Shoutout to whoever guesses the "hope." :)
> 
> Wanna chat? I'm on Tumblr @WhenTheSkyeQuakes  
> ／(^ x ^)＼


	17. I Know That You're Hurting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the quickest I've ever updated . . . Seems being stressed leads to better writing :P
> 
> This chapter was heavily inspired by "Rain" by Raffertie. It makes a really good soundtrack! It's also a really awesome FitzSimmons edit on You Tube by jojokersinaXF. I HIGHLY recommend it!
> 
> Kicks off kinda angsty, but I think it's necessary for the ending fluff :D

* * *

The beeping of machines came first, low and methodical. Next the patter of rain on the windows, setting a beat to the tune of a heart.

Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the dim lighting and pale blue walls. Sleep slowly drained its way from her bones.

Her mind was fogged, a horrid turbulent mess that just bubbled beneath her skull. It was beating its pattern into her very pulse, the message resoundingly clear.

_You._

_You did this._

_You weren't strong enough._

_You left him._

_Them._

_Both of them._

_Everything you touch . . ._

_. . . It fails._

_The pod._

_Maveth._

_And now this._

_Your son._

_His son._

_You failed him._

A tear silently snaked its way down her cheek. This wasn't what she had envisioned. This wasn't what she had had in mind when she handed Fitz a wrapped box with a positive test inside.

A quiet sob escaped her; it wasn't strong enough to make a sound, just to rattle her chest and reawaken her rough throat.

The figure next to her stirred. She sucked in a breath, attempting to to turn over before thinking better of the pain emanating from inside of her. It had been so long since Lizzie's birth she had nearly forgot the after effects of labor.

A thumb carefully traced her cheeks, brushing away her tears. She leaned into the feeling, coming face to face with bright blue eyes.

She breathed softly, smelling his skin and the faint traces of cologne that were overall him.

"Hi," he breathed, watching her carefully.

Her eyes darted from one pool of emotion to the next. "Hello," she breathed in return, breathless and teary.

His hand trailed softly from her face down to the curve of her neck, over the ties of her hospital gown and and down to her waist. Gently, he pulled her just a fraction closer to him.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, watching her closely. "But you need to let him go, Jemma,"

Her heart broke again, and idly the dramatic part of her wondered if this time it was unrepairable.

This man, the one she loved, the one she chose to begin a family with, was now telling her to let a piece of her go. To let their son, who would never have a chance to grow old, to start a family, go.

She couldn't. There had to be some way.

But she looked at him, and she knew. This wasn't going to be easy. This wasn't going to be fun. It wasn't going to be a heartfelt road to recovery.

This was going to be starting over.

Her eyes darted to his lips, his pink lips slightly parted with breath, and she decided.

Carefully, she ducked her head forward and closed the gap between them.

It was like kissing him for the first time, she decided, but all the same an old feeling that warmed her from the roots of her hair. Her fingers trailed up, medical bracelet and all to tangle in his hair. She kissed him harder, with all the passion she felt never able to convey to him, and let herself answer.

_Okay._

_I trust you._

* * *

 

No one had ever said it was easy.

But no one had ever said it would be so hard, either.

Never in all her years had she even begun to scratch the surface on how painful it was for a parent to bury their own child. It wasn't natural. The young were to bury the old, never the other way.

So she watched the tiny casket into the earth, her husband close to her side.

* * *

  
She spent the few days following in bed with Fitz, simply holding each other with languid kisses pressed in between.

"Will you promise me something?" He asked one day, fingers combing through her hair.

Had he not been brushing her hair, she would have turned to him. "That depends,"

He sighed. "Jemma,"

Her eyes pressed shut, a shaky breath escape ing her. "Yes,"

"Don't blame yourself," the brush was pulled gently from her locks, Fitz shuffling across the bed to face her. His hands took her own in a soft squeeze.

Her eyes were dry, but that didn't mean she was hurting. "I can't. I promised you to -"

Fitz surged forward, cupping her face to press his mouth firmly to hers. "I don't care. Because though I may have loved him, I love you more. I forgive you, Jemma - even if it wasn't your fault."

Her eyes held his even as she answered. "Thank you,"

* * *

 

"Mo-mmy!"

A smile flitted into Jemma's face as she entered the kitchen, Lizzie bouncing up and down excitedly on a stool.

The apron she and May had sewed for her was tied around her tiny body. The pastel purple fabric was splotched with flour and sugar. Some chocolate appeared to be smeared - along with more flour - across her cheeks and dotted on her nose.

"What are you two up to?" Jemma laughed as Fitz popped into view, no better off than his daughter.

Lizzie grinned proudly. "Pancakes! Because they make ev'ything better,"

Fitz slid her a plate across the counter. "With chocolate chips," he added excitedly, looking like a child with his hair filled with flour and eyes lit up.

The pancake was slightly over cooked with far too many chocolate pieces, but just this once, Jemma let it slide. Healthiness could be saved for another time.

"Mm," she smiled, humming at her first bite, if more for them than her. "Delicious. Looks like we have a little Giada here,"

And later, when the rest of the team joined them for more pastries, Jemma decided that maybe pancakes really _did_ make everything better.

* * *

 

"Look at this!"

Jemma turned to her husband, whom was next to her in bed on his tablet. Her eyes flitted across the screen, coming to rest on what his attention had landed on.

"Fitz," she breathed, "Where - Where did you get that?"

He grinned, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear without looking up. "He Internet."

"No, I mean _that,_ " she pointed at the screen before realizing he was poking fun at her. "Ugh, Fitz! You know what I mean,"

He chuckled, tapping on the picture to expand it. "Well, maybe after Skye got out of rehab a month or so ago, I was able to get some . . . Information out of her,"

Her jaw dropped. "You mean . . ."

"Yep,"

His smile was contagious, and soon she found a laugh bubbling its way out of her throat. Unable to contain herself, she lunged over to plant her lips on his cheek.

"Oh my god, Fitz - you're playing with me,"

Her eyes were wide with excitement, and it warmed him to see her so excited after so long.

"Never. Perhaps we could . . . Take a look in a few weeks?"

* * *

 

" _Daddy_ ," Lizzie moaned from the backseat. "Are we there yet?"

Fit groaned off handedly to Jemma, whom sat next to him in their rental car. "I swear she's been watching too many American shows with Skye,"

Jemma smiled softly, stifling her laughter. "You were the same way," she reminded, prodding gently at his side. "If I recall a certain road trip correctly,"

He swatted at her hand. "Woman, I'm driving here." He stole a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. "And besides, you promised never to bring up that damned trip ever again."

There was a gasp from the backseat. "Daddy!" Lizzie's eyes were wide in the rear view mirror. "That's a bad, bad word!"

Fitz had the decency to blush, Jemma cackling next to him. "She got you, Fitzy!"

He mock-glared at his wife, sticking his tongue out like the mature adult he was. "Well if your mum hadn't brought it up, I wouldn't have said anything, right monkey?"

Lizzie's arms remained stubbornly crossed.

It wasn't much longer before their rental was pulling up a stone road, dust spraying from its tires. Trees lined the road, flowers blooming out across their branches. A mossy floor of clover and small flowers grew out across the ground. Jemma felt a lurch in her chest. It all just seemed so . . . Perfect.

Before she knew it, Fitz had parked and was on to unbuckling Lizzie from her car seat. Jemma blinked, realizing she had been staring at the same bush for a few, before slowly pulling herself out of her seat.

Fitz came around the vehicle like a bouncy puppy, throwing an arm around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "So? What do you think?"

She contemplated the white building before her, small but homey, with a wrap around porch and white trim.

"I think we're going to need a dog,"

She turned to face him, grinning, only to find him looking at her with fondness.

"What?" Her voice lowered, almost automatically.

"Nothing," he managed, because the next moment his mouth was on hers, warm and soft. "I just love you," he murmured, leaning his forehead to hers.

Jemma laughed softly, kissing the corner of his mouth once more. "I love you, too,"

They leaned in again, but were interrupted by a four year old.

"Mum! Daddy! The door won't open!"

They laughed, Jemma tilting her head to his. "I believe we should check in on that,"

"Just maybe," Fitz returned, kissing her cheek one last time. "Come on, before she figures out a way to dismantle the door,"

His hand tucked into hers, and Jemma decided that right then, everything just might be right in the world.

* * *

 

Six months after the birth and loss of their son, a Quinjet touched down in front of a certain white cottage in a certain Scottish town.

A dog was there too, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to RealLifeShipper (Fanfiction . Net) for guessing the hope!!! :D
> 
> Find me on Tumblr - WhenTheSkyeQuakes :)


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is!!! I'm astounded that this is the last chapter . . . I'll save the sappy stuff for the end note XD 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

  
The tea mug warmed her hands through and through, the steam wafting up to tickle her nose and calm her senses. A fluffy sweater clad her in a veil of warmth she hadn't yet become accustomed to, the sleeves just _that_ much too long and the hems frayed and soft.

Jemma sighed softly, slipping back further into her sofa. She's have to remember to thank Fitz one day for insisting on buying these exact models; as a child, she would have compared it to lying on a marshmallow.

The snow outside their cottage was fluffy and the stuff of dreams for her daughter. Lizzie ran squealing around the yard, Monkey the mutt on her heels. They tumbled into snowbank after snowbank together, her cheeks and nose all flushed cherry red and Monkey's usually inky black coat now more similar to a Dalmatian.

Her lips found the rim of her mug, taking another soft sip. Earl gray swirled into her senses, her mouth parting in a quiet, contented sigh.

Fitz's hand landed on her upper thigh, next to where her legs curled up underneath her. It was apparent he'd done it unknowingly; his brow line was still furrowed adorably as his tongue rested between his front teeth. A blueprint was nested in his lab, a notebook on his knee and a pencil in his palm.

Gently, Jemma covered his hand with her own. "Tough day?" Her voice broke their comfortable silence softly.

He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "Bit. Just can't figure out where we're going to put the little one's desks,"

She leaned gently over his shoulder, her warm tea scented breath tickling his ear lobe. A fingernail traced one of the lines on his blueprint of their basement's lab. "There. We can keep an eye on them and perform our experiments."

Fitz slowly nodded, fingers tapping his lips. "Might work. We'd have to move the emergency shower, and the Bunsen burners . . ." He scratched a few things out quickly in his note book before passing it over to Jemma. ". . . but I think it's doable."

She let out a soft sigh, watching him sketch in three square school desks. "There should be four," she murmured softly.

His sketching froze, his posture tightening, but Jemma plowed on.

"He should be here with us, Fitz. He'd still be too little to be out with Liz right now, but he could be sitting here between us and -"

Fitz gently took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Stop, Jems," he murmured. "Just don't,"

His palm was hot and comforting, so much like her mug of tea still poised in the other. Nearly a year and a half had passed since the loss, and yet there wasn't a day she didn't think about him. Would he have had the same blue eyes as his father? Would his wisps of hair have curled? Could he have had his first steps by now? His first tooth?

Regardless, he was gone. She'd become accustomed to the fact that it wasn't her fault, that there wasn't anything else she could have done. But still that silent empty gap in their lives lingered. It was a constant reminder that a piece of their puzzle was missing and could never be replaced.

She was stumbled out of her thoughts by a fluttering in her stomach. Her lips parted in a soft "oh."

Fitz's eyes turned to hers, and despite her underlying sadness, she couldn't help but give him a breathless smile. Her hand twisted so their interlaced fingers broke apart, her palm guiding his to her swollen belly.

"Jems?" He asked.

"Shh . . ." She hushed him, waiting. Less than a moment later they were rewarded with a flutter of tiny kicks against their shared palms.

She whipped to face him, a wide smile on her face. The only way she could describe him was awed.

"That's - That's them in there?" He asked wondrously. "Do you know which one?"

A giggle escaped her. "Sorry, kind of hard to keep tabs on two of them,"

He laughed lightly, waiting. Another flurry of tiny feet assaulted his palm, making him grin even wider.

"I'm getting Lizzie!" Fitz jumped up like a school boy, tossing his designs to the coffee table and running for their sliding door.

Jemma watched from the window as her husband ran out into the powder in his socks, scooped up their daughter, and hauled her back inside.

And maybe, she decided, just maybe, as her daughter's icy palms excitedly felt around her bump, life really did have happy endings after all.

The road to them wasn't easy, and nothing lasted forever, but the moments like these made them all worth it. It was worth it, all the pain and confusion leading up to this very second. Every single bit of it.

"The road is worth it," she whispered softly, watching as Fitz and Lizzie drew like children on her belly with markers.

Her two unborn children seemed to agree, kicking enthusiastically and ruining Fitz's carefully drawn monkey.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest thing I've ever written . . . I'm still in awe that it's over. 
> 
> I'd like to thank each and every single person who ever commented, voted, favorited, followed or left kudos on this story. 
> 
> Special shoutout to Fitz_like_a_Jem, AKA Adrienne. It's something else to have you pump my Tumblr up with messages as well as your constant comments :D Love ya! ／(=⌒x⌒=)＼
> 
> Wanna chat? Tumblr - WhenTheSkyeQuakes <3 
> 
> See you all soon! 
> 
> \- Kayla

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, the chapters are going to be shorter than usual because I'm trying out a different writing style. We'll see how it turns out :) But the good news about this is that I'm able to keep updating more regularly, so whoo hoo! XD
> 
> Please leave a review! It helps keep me going :)


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